MIA
by Crescendo
Summary: HPSM. PreHBP: Albus Dumbledore meets his protege, Usagi Tsukino, who have been MIA for 16 years. She fought against Voldemort before, she's back to do it again.
1. The Passing

Hiya!  Crescendo here!  Listen, I know!  Another HP/SM crossover?  When I haven't updated Voldemort on Ice for ages?  Don't kill me, please!  I am working on Voldemort on Ice, its just that I sort of wrote myself into a corner.  I have over ten versions of the 8th chapter, and a least two drafts of each version.  See, I've been working!  But I got this idea in my head.  You know, when you get that itch in your head that absolutely refuses to go out?  Well, that's what's written below.  My idea.  I tried not to write and post it.  I really did.  I told the itch, 'I don't have time for this, I have to update Voldemort on Ice, and I promised myself that I wouldn't add another imcomplete story to my growing list'.  But did the itch listen to me? No. --;   It said to me, 'write me, write me!'.  So, I had to write the idea.  Have no fear, though!  This will take second place to Voldemort on Ice.  I will update this fic at my leisure, if at all.  I really am working on Voldemort on Ice really hard, people!  If you want me to continue with this fic, please review!  Otherwise, I'll abandon it.  It's totally up to you.  So, enough of my crazed babbling, on with the story!

Summary:  An Harry Potter/Sailormoon crossover. Don't read if you haven't read OotP (the 5th book). Alternate Universe. Albus Dumbledore meets his protege, Usagi Tsukino, who for the past 16 years has been listed as Missing In Action (MIA). She was the best Auror that the ministry had, and was the leader of the elite Senshi, who fought against Lord Voldemort, the first time he rose to power. Now Usagi is back and ready to fight. This story is meant to explore a coupling. SS/UT

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Albus Dumbledore surveyed the busy London street.  The bright, early June sun reflected off this half-moon spectacles, hiding his china blue eyes.  Many of the pupils in the magical school, Hogwarts, knew Dumbledore by these eyes, which often twinkled.

Others, however, knew Albus Dumbledore because he was only wizard that Lord Voldemort, a year into his second rise of power, feared.  It was this Dumbledore that expertly examined the street.  There was no twinkle in those eyes now, only the look of a keen wizard, sharp and street-smart.  He had been on too many of these missions to not check out the surroundings.  Many people who said that they bore information often bore other things too, like a dark mark and an agenda.

_There._

A wizard (or witch), stood facing him on the other side of the boulevard.  There was a cloak a blinding shade of white on this person, it was floor length and blew about lightly in the breeze.  The hood was up, hiding the face.  White was the only color you could really wear in June.  Even this early in the morning, the sun was out and broiling those who stepped outside.  Under Dumbledore's watchful eye, the figure raised an arm, their left arm to be exact, and carefully adjusted to hood.  There was no dark mark on that arm.

_Smart._  Dumbledore thought.  This person, this _female_, to be exact (that arm was far too dainty to belong to a man), knew what he would be worrying about, and knew exactly how to show that she was friendly.

He nodded casually to her, and they both started down the street at a brisk gait.  Both looked straight ahead, not acknowledging the other, but that was how these things were done.

When they passed each other, Dumbledore stuck out his right hand, and the witch slipped a piece of parchment into it.

A brief touch, so that no one would notice.  It would look like they just barely brushed by each other to any other passerby.

Still looking straight ahead, Dumbledore unfolded the parchment, and glaced down carefully.

It held two words.

A name.

_How can it be?_

But he was fooling himself.  There was many ways it could be.  But was it?

_All these years._

Then, _Severus will be beside himself._

Tears sprung to his eyes.  They were sure, they were so sure…

_That dear girl.  My star pupil._

_The protégé.  _Dumbledore thought.  The friend of so many people.  There wasn't a day that he, and Albus Dumbledore was sure, many other people, hadn't thought about her.

_I can't wait until this afternoon._

_I have to know now._

He turned around bruquely and rushed back down the street.  The witch stood still on the other side.

She knows.  She knows that I have to know… 

There was screech of brakes and the sound of a muggle car horn.

Had the light changed?  Dumbledore neither knew nor cared.  He continued to rush.

"Crazy old coot!" Called the cranky driver.

Maybe I am crazy.  We were so sure that she was dead.  Not positive, but to reappear, now, there is so little chance of that happening…

Despite his reasoning, he could not rid himself of the sudden emotion that had seized upon him.

I'm too old for this.

He had reached her.

She raised her arms and lowered the hood.

She's doesn't look a day older then when I last saw her! 

Dumbledore reached into his pocket, his hands shaking.  He fished about for something, then held it out in his palm for the woman to take.

It was a lemon drop.

With a veritaserum filled center.

She took it, carefully unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth.  Dumbledore noticed that she folded the wrapper into a little square before she stuck it in her pocket.

That was so like her.  _It must be._  The tears that had been pooling in his eyes trickled out onto weathered cheeks.

"My dear child, what is your name?"  He croaked.

The witch smiled at him. She too, was weeping.

"Usagi Tsukino."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Well, that's the first chapter!  Coming up, the second and third, which are flying out of my head as fast as I can type them.  Yup, its one of those crazy ideas.  Please review, and I'm working on Voldemort on Ice!  You won't have to wait much longer.  Promise!  You can reach me at RiskyGroundSound@msn.com if you need too.


	2. Cornelius Fudge

Five minutes later found them aparating into the Ministry of Magic.

Both were smiling.

Then, Usagi commented "Hey, I thought we had to go through a room first, to get a…"

Here, she caught sight of herself, and noticed a white nametag pinned to her chest.

Usagi Tsukino, MIA 

"…nametag."  She sighed.  "I should have known."

"We'll clear up MIA in a minute."  Dumbledore assured her, as Fudge swooped down, trying to evade the mass of Daily Prophet reporters.

"Are you ready, Dumbledore?  I have new intelligence—"

"Cornelius, first we must take care of a rather urgent, and, as I am thrilled to say, joyous matter.  This is Tsukino Usagi, we must take care of her listing as MIA.  She is here now.  We must restore her status."

"Dumbledore, can't this wait?"  said Fudge shortly.  "We've got very important business to attend to."  He looked very harassed.  
"Cornelius, I'm hurt."  Said Usagi lightly, in a tone that let on that she was not hurt, but merely amused.  "You don't remember me?"

"Refresh him, Usagi."  Beamed Dumbledore.  He looked very much like he was going to enjoy this meeting.

Usagi nodded, and looked around, trying to find something to fry.

"Hey, what happened to the fountain of Magical Brethren?"

"We'll talk about that later," Dumbledore said.

Usagi smiled, visually locating the remaining pieces of the fountain, which were stacked again the far wall.  Then, without warning, a incandescent beam of sheer power shot out form her outstreched hand, and the pieces hissed as they were struck, and turned into a fine, white dust.

There was a sudden burst of activity as everyone within sight and hearing rumaged for their wands and pointed them all at Usagi.  She gave them a hint of a grin, and raised her hands to indicate that she meant no harm, and most important, was dark mark-less and wand-less.

Fudge stared at her, a mixture of recognition and shock frozen on his face.

"Remember me now?"

"I do."  He breathed, now rushing forward to shake her hand heartily.  "Usagi Tsukino!  My God, its been sixteen years, hasn't it?  You were our very best Auror!  

Besides Mad-Eye Moody, of course." He added hastily, seeing the raising of more than one eyebrow.  "I was very sore to lose you, very sore indeed…"

"I know, amazing isn't it?"  Usagi said.  "Believe me, I would have been here much sooner if I had been able."

"Oh, I believe it!" exclaimed Fudge, who gave a short laugh.  "There's not much that would keep Usagi Tsukino from fighting where she was needed.  I truely pity the person who tried to stop you.  You will, of course, return to work ASAP?  I could up the standard salary just a tad…"

"Oh, its debatable," said Usagi.  Fudge's face fell.  "But right now, I want to be sworn back into the Order.  The new one."  She looked carefully at Dumbledore.  "All things revolve on how well we get this Voldemort mess resolved.  
Fudge flinched lightly, and Usagi noticed.  She smiled benignly.  "But, you've been a bit of a poo-head this past year, haven't you, Minister?"  She cocked her head to the side, in confusion.  "Releasing a gag order on the Daily Prophet—"

Fudge drew himself up hastily to deny her words.

Usagi continued, eyeing him sharply.  "Don't lie to me, Cornelius.  I can read between the lines, and only a bigot could read that paper and think that the _Prophet_ was reporting objectively.  You weren't merely leaning on it.  The Educational Decrees weren't the only bit of legislation that made an appearance on your desk recently.  But you've also been pushing things around.  Not acknowledging Voldemort's return, slandering Harry Potter and Dumbledore, and many other despicable things that I could tick off.  Why?  You're so much smarter than that."

Fudge retained the look of a child who had been effectively told off.  He turned red, and shifted about, muttering things.

"IwasreallyafraidandIdidn'twantyou-know-whotobebackbecauseitwouldbereallyreallyhardto—"

"But that's no excuse."  Scolded Usagi, who had effectively interrpreted Fudge's slurred words.

"No."  said Fudge carefully, staring at the floor.

"But that's enough of that." She said firmly.

"You are quite right," Dumbledore interjected.  "Come, Cornelius, we must take care of this MIA listing."

"Of course, Dumbledore!" Fudge said loudly, hasty to regain to composure.  "My office, please."

They had just started forward when a _Prophet_ reporter scurried up to Usagi.

"I heard your most eloquent remarks about the Minister's behavior, would you care to comment about it?  Or about anything at all?"  The reporter purred.

"Yes, I would."  Usagi said lightly.

Fudge looked around over his shoulder, scared.

"Did you see what happened to the remains of the fountain of Magical Brethen?"

"Yes."  The reporter replied eagerly.  He already had out his parchment and quill.

"Well, that's what will happen to your head if anything said here today makes its way into print."

The reporter backed away, effectively cowed.

Usagi gave her signature light smile, and continued to follow Fudge, who looked emensely grateful and relieved.

"I never liked that fountain anyway." She whispered to Dumbledore.  "My compliments to the one who destroyed it."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Once again, review if you like it and want me to keep going. ^_^


	3. Chapter 3 part A

Wai!  I can't believe it!  Half a chapter in so soon?!  Didn't I tell you guys that this idea was an itch in my head?  I can't seem to get it out!

            Someone asked about what MIA is.  MIA means Missing In Action, and it's a term used in military, when someone is in combat, and they go missing.  There's no body, and the military knows that the person in question is not a POW (Prisoner of War).  Hope that helps!  One with the story!

            ~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~

"Things been hectic?"  Usagi asked Fudge, as they reached his office and stepped through the heavy, ornate oak paneled doors.  She pointed the Interdepartmental Memos, which were flitting around about the ceiling.  There were at least 80 up there.

"Like you wouldn't believe." Sighed Fudge, who followed Usagi's finger with dismay.  "Of course, I am forgetting my manners."  He waved offhandedly as if dismissing his impoliteness.  "Drink?"

"Sure," replied Usagi absentmindedly, as she glanced about the office.  It was full of parchment and folders.  The rather large desk alone was crowded with stacks of parchment at least three feet tall.  The corners were run amok with the extent of the Minister's file collection.  A small mini bar lining the left wall was the only thing that wasn't full of scrolls and bills to be passed or vetoed, though it was littered with bottles of Vodka and liquor.

"Here you are!"  Fudge handed Usagi a tumbler full of a clear, but red tinted liquid.  He handed one of the same to Dumbledore, and indicated that they both sit.  Usagi moved the clutter aside and took a seat.  She sniffed the fluid and recoiled in disgust.

'Firewhiskey!' She mouthed to Dumbledore behind Fudge's back.  'Strong stuff!'  She pretended to take a large gulp when Fudge turned around, but once he was facing away, she stood up and poked around the desk, looking for some kind of container.  She found about twenty other tumblers, and distributed her drink between them.

Usagi was supposedly draining her glass when Fudge faced them again, a tumbler of Firewhiskey in his own hand.

"Finished already?"  He asked, delighted.  "I could get you another one—"

"No, no, please!" said Usagi quickly.  "One is enough.  Any amount of alcohol effects the senses, it is better that I refuse."  She gave him a flickering smile.

"Ah, you always were the purist."  Fudge pulled out a bottle of water, and Usagi took it gratefully.  "Aurors have to keep their heads about them."

"Ministers do too."  Usagi emulated pointedly.

Fudge frowned.  "You're right."  He nabbed a bottle for himself, and took a couple sips.  "But, to business!  I'll get Percy Weasley in here, he'll get the necessary paperwork."  He set the bottle on a shaky stack of parchment, and opened the door.

"Wealsey--!"

A young man with red hair slid to the floor at Fudge's feet, releasing a stack of folders and papers that slid from his arms and melted into the mess on the floor.

"Eavesdropping, Weasley?"  Asked the Minister coldly.

"Yes, sir, I mean, no sir, not me!" stammered Percy as he clamored hastily to his feet.  Usagi's lips twitched.

"Are you really Usagi Tsukino?"  He gasped, catching sight of her.

"That's the name on the birth certificate." Usagi confirmed, biting her lower lip to keep from laughing.

Percy shook her hand so heartily that her head wobbled.  "I read all about you in _Prefects Who Gained Power_!  It's such an honor to meet you!  You were instrumental here at the Ministry!"

"I've grown more popular since I've been gone."  She commented wryly.  It wasn't that hard to remember the days when she was discriminated against because she was a female Auror, and people were telling her to that she'd never be good at anything and to go back to the place that she came from.

"Weasley!"  Said Fudge sharply, and Percy snapped to attention, quickly grabbing his papers from the floor.  "I want the paperwork from the Department of Defense for Ms Tsukino, to change her status."

"Done, sir."

"Done?" repeated Fudge in confusion.

Percy Weasley beamed, apparently proud of himself.  "Hongershure saw that she's back, and he changed the paperwork, sir."  Here, he turned to Usagi.  "He said that he's happy your back and everybody wants to see you and say hi.  And he's really glad that you are alive, and not dead, and that he needs you to tell him how you whooped Macnair's as—erm, rear-end before you disappeared."  He looked down at the parchment in his hand to confirm.

Usagi finally laughed out loud.  "Tell him that I'm happy to back, and to say hi to everybody from me.  I'll tell him how I 'whooped Macnair's ass' later.  And don't be afraid to say the word."  She winked at Percy.  "I could think of worse words besides 'ass'."

"Yes, ma'm."

"Then, Weasley, I want Jaberstocken in here to clear her very outdated Aparating license—" Fudge began.

"Done, sir."

"Doesn't she have to be retested?"

"Sir, he said that he saw her Aparate into the Ministry and said she's as good as always.  The lisence has been updated."  Here, Percy turned to Usagi again.  "He says that he'll forgive the Aparating here because he's really happy that your alive, and not dead, and he wants you to come by and say hi."

"Tell Jabberwocky that I return the favor."

"Yes ma'm."  Percy set the papers down on Fudge's desk.  "Anything else, Minister?"

"That will be all, thank you, Weasley."

Percy nodded and walked out.  Fudge shut the door behind him, shaking his head.  

"Here for ten minutes, and already things are working more smoothly because of you."  He said, clearly impressed.  "Not to be putting down Percy Weasley, of course, but he always needed to be told what to do.  About time he took some inative."

Usagi shrugged.  She was thinking about how the heads of the departments had 'taken the iniative'.  _Typical Fudge._

"Is that all the business we have to deal with today?  Dumbledore, I guess we will have to reschedule our appointment."

Dumbledore nodded his head to confirm, but Usagi jumped in.

"No, Minister, that is not all the business we have."  She said this rather sharply, crossing her arms, and both men looked at her with curiosity.

"Go on, please."  Gestured Fudge.  He looked slightly annoyed.

"I will tell you, in detail, Dumbledore, about my disappearance, but I would have been back here a lot sooner if it hadn't been for your favorite—" Here a note of bitterness entered her voice, "Senior Undersecretary, or I hope, for Cornelius' sake, EX-SENIOR UNDERSECRETARY,"  Usagi pierced Fudge with a glare that made him shiver, "Dolores Umbridge."

Fudge's mouth opened and closed in horror, he waved his arms and made a show without a single syllable of a word coming out of his mouth.

"Cornelius!"  Thundered Dumbledore, rising to his feet.

Fudge miraculously found his voice.  "Dumbledore!  I had no idea!  NO IDEA!"

Usagi stepped between the two.  "He may be right, Dumbledore.  The more I think on it, the more I think that Umbridge was solely responsible for it."

"You came to this conclusion before we met today."  Here he turned to Usagi, and gave her a searching look.

"Yes, I did."  Usagi replied softly.

Dumbledore nodded lightly, he seemed to think it over, before he sat back down in his seat.  His two comrades followed his example.

"Perhaps it is better, Usagi, if you would tell us now, about your disappearance."

"Then I will."  Usagi gulped, and clasped her hands.  There was a moment of silence, where you could hear faint sound coming through the walls.  The memos were still jostling about the ceiling, and the large stacks of parchment were still tilting.  Usagi closed her eyes for a moment, calling up the painful memories.  "You last saw me when I was with Severus Snape…"

For Usagi, the office seemed to blur and twist, and before she knew it, she was reliving the memories that shaped her life…

It was the most despairing place she had ever been in.

The rain fell hard upon the ground, and the winds blew about, tossing up an opaque mist.  The damp and the cold chilled the bones of those outside of shelter, but the company chilled the heart.

Feet churned the slimy mud, and voices were thrown about.  Colored ribbons of light were faintly visible through the rolling mists and fog, which thankfully hid them.

_A haze.  _Usagi thought apathetically.  She shivered, though she didn't feel cold, far from it, she felt numb and detached.  It felt so odd, to lack feeling in her limbs.  She felt like she was drifting, drifting in a sea of mire and fog, her brain as cloudy as the dank and dark sky…

"Usagi!  Talk to me…!"

She wasn't drifting, she was drowning!  The senses of an Auror kicked in.  _Damn you, Usagi!  Wake up! You're not dead, stop acting like it!_

A low moan came quaking out of her body, and she forced her eyes open.  Severus Snape stared back at her, his face full of concern.  He was holding her head up.  They were both sprawled on the ground.

Usagi shook her head, trying to force herself into a more alert state of mind.  She slowly sat up, aided by Severus, and looked around.

Three feet away from them, spread eagled on the ground, lay a Death Eater.  The white mask hid his expression, but Usagi was sure that it would have one of shock and fear.  He was clearly dead.

"I didn't call them."

Usagi turned to look back at Snape, whose voice was full of trepidation.  "Believe me, Usagi, I did not call them.  I wouldn't call them if I wanted to leave… Leave this mess…"

"I believe you."  Said Usagi soothingly.  She reached out her hand, and touched his face, wiping away a splatter of mud, until she realized that it was caked on.  "I believe everything you told me today.  Severus, I've always believed in you."

"This shouldn't have happened!"  He gestured to her side, and Usagi noticed, for the first time, a burning gash that was oozing blood.  _From the Death Eater.  Severus killed him.  He protected me._

"I've had worse.  What's important now, is that we get out of here."  Usagi glanced at the approaching flashes of light.

A scream echoed, followed by a burst of green.  Cruel laughter sounded through the fog.

Severus followed her gaze.  "Usagi, you're injured.  You need to leave.  I have to stay here.  I'll create a distraction."

"No!"  Usagi grabbed him by the front of his mud-covered robes, and yanked his face close to her's.  "Dammit, Severus Snape, I'm going to get you out here alive if it's the last thing I do!  You've finally come to your senses, I'm not going to leave you to the Death Eaters you despise!"

Severus grabbed her hands forcefully.  "I'm not worth your life, Usagi!"

Usagi pulled away from him, fire in her eyes.  "I'll be the judge of that!"

They glared at each other for a moment before Usagi spoke again, trying to keep her voice soft.  "I'm going to teleport you to Dumbledore.  I'm due back at Hogwarts in—" She raised her wrist to look at her watch, and wiped the mud off the glass face. "—Fifteen minutes.  If I'm lucky, I could be back in five."

Severus shook his head.  "No.  Usagi, I won't leave.  I won't leave you here to fight my battle.  You risked everything to come here for me.  I'm a Death Eater.  I deserve to die."

"You're a FORMER Death Eater.  And I don't believe anyone deserves to die, with the exception of Voldemort.  I want you to go.   I can't leave you here."

Severus shook his head again.

"Where's the Slytherin Severus Snape that I know?  Come on, get resourceful on me!  I'm brave, your cunning, I know we can both get out of here!"

"Slytherin!  Once again, I have stained his name!"  Severus buried his face in his hands.  "Just leave, Usagi!"

"Severus, please!"

"LEAVE!"  Suddenly, he stood up, towering over her.

"Severus…"

But he wasn't listening to her; he was picking her up and running away from the sounds of battle, stopping only when they had reached the lines of the forest.  Usagi knew why he did this.  It was the point where she was supposed to run away.  _Sorry to disappoint you, Severus, but Aurors don't flee like cowards and leave people behind._

"Usagi, you need to get out of here, now."  He stared at her, determined to make her leave.

Her frustration and concern coming to a head, Usagi leapt out of his arms, and stood on shaky legs to face him.  She glared up at the man, and though he was much taller than her, it would seem to anyone else that she was overpowering him.

"FRIENDS DON'T LEAVE FRIENDS BEHIND!  I WILL NOT LEAVE YOU HERE!  We're a team; we always have been, with the exception of the times that you've spent under Voldemort's rule, and WE ARE BOTH GOING TO GET OUT OF HERE ALIVE!  NOW YOU CAN HELP ME OR HINDER ME, BUT WE WILL LEAVE HERE ALIVE!"

"'Friends don't leave friends behind', do they?"  Spat Severus scathingly.  "Well, it seems to me that that is exactly what you want me to do.  Take your energy to teleport to Dumbledore, leaving you here to fend for yourself, is that it?"

"No!"  Usagi shrieked, "You don't get it! You would be taking my energy, but you'd be teleporting off of me, which would leave me with a shield, and I would have protection from about three good stunning spells, and the energy to get back to Hogwarts.  You would be leaving better off than I am now."

There was a moment of silence, empty except for the heaves of the two comrades, and the sounds of the Death Eaters enjoying their sport, sound of which were growing continuously louder as they drew nearer.

"Are you being honest with me?"  Severus asked, his glittering black eyes probing into her azure ones.

"I don't lie."  Usagi replied, making sure to keep eye contact.  It was true; she didn't lie, and felt strongly against doing any such thing.

Severus nodded.  "Then… If I agree, then I want you to promise me, PROMISE ME USAGI, that you will return.  Alive."

Usagi stepped closer to him, and caught his hands in her own.  "I, Usagi Tsukino, promise you, Severus Snape, that I will return, alive."

"Very well, then.  I will… let you teleport me."  The words seemed reluctant to leave his mouth, and he looked like he would like to retract them.  But the fact remained that Severus had given her his consent.

Relief flooded Usagi.  _He's going to get out of here.  _Then, she felt herself crying.  _I have my best friend back.  I told you, I told you, Voldemort, you wouldn't have him, this is Severus Snape, and I won't let you corrupt him!  I have my best friend!_

But Severus misinterpreted her tears of joy.

Usagi gasped when she felt a touch on her cheek.  It was him; he was wiping her tears away.

"God, I'm so sorry, Usagi!  I know I don't deserve it, but please, forgive me…!  You were so right about the Dark Lord, everything you ever said to me about him was right, I should have listened to you—"

"I forgive you."

"What?"

"I forgive you."

Now it her, she was wiping away his tears.

"Usagi, I don't deserve—"

"Severus, I couldn't care less if you deserved it or not.  That's what grace is all about."  She squeezed his hands, and started to power up for the teleport.

"I'll be seeing you, Usagi?"  He gripped her hands tightly, and the energy continued to flow into him.

Usagi nodded, only half-listening.  The Death Eaters were almost upon them.  She completed the transfer, and sent him on his way.

"Take care, Severus."

Whipping out her wand, she turned towards the men who were coming out of the mist, now alone.

"Looking for me, boys?"

            There was a collective hissing of magic, as spells were shot through the air.

Usagi formed a ball of power in her hand, and tossed it into the swarm of Death Eaters, her own, personal, magical hand grenade.

It exploded, and sent mud flying everywhere.  There were a few screams, and light filled the area, chasing away the mist.

"OH F—"

"Watch your mouth!"  Usagi called out lightly to the Death Eater who was cursing out the circumstances (the man had taken a wound from the blast).  He only shot off a hex, and Usagi effectively dodged it, her feet making sucking noises and she ran in the mud.

"Stunning only!"  Called an imperious voice.  It was the Death Eater in charge.  _Probably Lucius,_ Usagi thought.

"_Stupefy!_"

Usagi let the stunning spell hit her straight on, smiling all the while.

"What the hell?!" Exclaimed the spell-caster, his eyes widening in shock underneath the white mask.

"She's resilient to stunning!  Keep going, she'll be down in a few!"

That's right, Lucius.  Tell them to keep stunning me. I get the benefit of the energy.

"_Plenus Iacere!_"  Usagi shouted, and a good five of them were thrown back thirty yards.

There were two left.

"_Stupefy!"_

Usagi let this hit her, too.  _One more.  One more and I can teleport._

"She's still not damaged!  We must retreat!"  Shouted the second Death Eater.

"I'LL BE DAMNED IF ONE, FEMALE AUROR BEATS TEN OF US SINGLE-HANDEDLY AND INJURED!"  Shrieked Lucius Malfoy.

"A fall in your pride wouldn't hurt!"  Usagi called out.  _It hasn't even been two minutes and eight are already out of the fight.  This is a record for me._

"Shut up!"  He snarled, rounding on her.  His hand was quivering with rage.  "_Stupefy!"_

_That's the last of them.  Get these two bastards down and I can leave._

Usagi shot out a beam, but the Death Eaters dove away from it.  "You'll have to do better than that!  _Stupefy!" _

Usagi had to dodge that one, because the shield wouldn't take any more hits.  She did a running roll to escape another stream of red magic that whizzed over her head.  "_Lux est Potentia!" _A beautiful, pure white stream of light came roaring out of her wand, and knocked the Death Eaters over backwards, the spell on their lips dying into silence.

Usagi powered up quickly, thinking about Hogwarts.  She wanted out of the area immediately.  _I am so out of here—_

_"Impedimenta!"  _A Death Eater called out from behind the mist.  She hadn't hit all of them.

Usagi didn't have time to stop the process before she was tossed backwards, striking a tree headfirst right before she teleported…

"If you teleported, then you should have reached Hogwarts."  Dumbledore frowned, bringing Usagi back to reality.  "Even with the spell—"

"You're right, Dumbledore, I would have reached Hogwarts despite the spell.  It's just that I had to hit to tree with my head.  I would have been fine if I hit anywhere else.  But, as luck would have it, I had to hit my head."

"So, your destination was lost, and you could have ended up anywhere in the world."  Dumbledore finished for her.

"Damn, of all the things to happen!" Fumed Fudge.

"That was my reaction." Said Usagi, and made to continue.  "Three years later, I woke up in Panama City, Panama…"

Noise filtered through her ears.  Someone was yelling, penetrating her sleep.  What were they saying?  It sounded like a different language.  _Stupid idiot, I'm trying to sleep here!_  Usagi couldn't remember a time in her life when she felt so ghastly exhausted.  _How long have I been sleeping anyway?_

She blinked, and raised her watch to see what time it is.  _3:36 PM?  That can't be right…  _Then she noticed that the second hand wasn't moving.

"Damn battery ran out.  Knew you couldn't trust muggle watches…"  Usagi muttered as she sat up.

Suddenly, her movements stilled.

_This isn't a bed.  I'm not in Hogwarts, I'm not in the Headquarters!_

_Hell, this isn't even London._

She was in a completely foreign city.  The language was different, everything was different.  It was much dirtier.

Usagi wrinkled her nose from the smell of filth and trash that was sharing the alley with her.  Above her, a neon light flickered and buzzed.

            The air was balmy and warm, the climate seemed almost tropical.

            _It probably is, _Usagi thought to herself.  _I could be anywhere…_

"This can't be happening…"  Usagi whimpered.  _I don't even know how I got here…_

"Wait!"  Fudge cried.  Usagi stopped her monologue.  "What do you mean, 'woke up three years later'?"

"I hit that tree hard enough to send me into a coma.  I teleported after that and ended up in Panama.  After three years of being in the coma, I woke up!  But, I could have explained all this by telling my story..."  Here, she gave him a disapproving look.

Fudge ignored it.  "How did you stay alive?  No food, no water, for three years!"

"Well, since I was in a coma, I never powered down, did I?"  Usagi asked him.  "That alone kept me alive.  And I didn't do much, its not like I needed lots of energy.  But, I was horribly weak, I couldn't even walk…"

Once again, Usagi found herself falling back in time…

Don't panic.  Just think.  How did I get here?  What was I doing last before I fell asleep?

Usagi squeezed her eyes shut, trying to remember, trying to call up her memories.

That's when she realized she couldn't.

Oh my God.  I don't remember.

Then, _Don't panic!  What do you remember?_

Usagi thought again for a moment.  _I'm an Auror for the Ministry of Magic.  I also belong to the Order of the Phoenix.  My name is Usagi Tsukino, and my best friends are James, Lily, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, Mad-Eye and Severus.  Wait no, not Severus, he's fighting for Voldemort._

_Who's Voldemort?  Oh yeah, he's that creepy guy who commands the Death Eaters.  He's the one I'm fighting against.  Can't believe I forgot that!_

"I have to find a fire and some floo powder."  Usagi said to herself out loud, and shifted positions, trying to get up.

_Shit, I can't walk!_

Usagi could feel her legs, so she knew that she wasn't paralyzed.  She pulled up her robes, which were horribly ragged.

_Merlin's beard, I'm a skeleton!_

It wasn't far from the truth.  Her legs were horribly skinny.  She was also ravenous.

_Okay, so I've officially been starved.  I just need to find some help._

But a voice niggled in the back of her brain.  _Someone _help_ you?  Right.  You look like your homeless.  Right, they'll help you!_

"I just need someone to take me the hospital.  Someone who'll speak English," Usagi said softly to herself.  She felt a need to hear herself talk, as if confirming that this was real.  Waking up in cities when she didn't know how she got there—it wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence.

So, who in the vicinity spoke English?  There were people walking by the alley on the boulevard.  Most of the looked like natives, to Usagi, people whom most certainly wouldn't speak English.

_Maybe there's a tourist around here somewhere.  It seems tropical. Tropical place are big for tourism…_

Then, she saw a United States Marine.  Oh, thank God for the American military and its national interests!  Americans spoke English!

"Sir!"  Usagi called, crawling towards the boulevard.  "Sir! SIR!  Please—"

But he was walking right past, not even acknowledging her.  Her chance for help was leaving!  _Think!  Some way to get his attention!  _So Usagi used the one word that she knew any Marine would have to come to terms with.

"HEY, JARHEAD!"

The Marine spun around angrily.  "Who said that?"

"I did!"  Usagi called to him, still dragging herself towards the boulevard.  "Sorry to do it, I hardly think that, but I had to get your attention."

He caught sight of her.  "Sorry, lady, but I can't give you money."

"I don't want money," said Usagi irritably.  "I don't want booze.  I just want to get to a hospital!  I can't walk… and I'm not homeless!  I don't even understand why I'm here, and I'm most certainly not crazy.  I'll pay you, I just really, really need to get to a hospital."

"You look like you do need to get to a hospital."  The Marine agreed.  "But I don't understand, what do you mean, you don't get why you're here?"

"Because, I just woke up here, and I'm not even in Europe, much less Great Britain!  I'm kind of supposed to be in one of those, not here!"

"You're British?"  Asked the Marine, as he walked over to her.

"Yup."  Said Usagi.  "I'll pay you, I just need to get to a hospital, and I can't get there by myself!"

"I don't need to be paid."  He picked her up, and threw her over his shoulder.  Usagi didn't particularly like the unflattering position, but she could deal with it.  It wasn't like she had much choice.  "I'll take you.  After laying here, do you really expect to have money on you?"

"No."  Usagi replied, her face buried into the back of his uniform.  _Wow, this guy knows how to iron, wash his clothes, and properly use fabric softener.  That's amazing.  _"Hey, thanks.  I'll make it up to you."

"Thank my training.  I'm supposed to have integrity, honesty, and loyalty, according to the US Marine Core, so I'm going by that."

"Well, thanks anyway.   So, where am I?"

"Panama City, Panama."

Usagi sighed.  So, it was kind of a tropical climate_.  _Usagi congratulated herself on her observation.  She would make Mad-Eye proud when she related the story to him.  _Constant vigilance.  I stuck to those words._

It didn't take long to reach a hospital.  All of a sudden, a large, white building with a red cross on it came into sight.   The Marine turned and walked right through the automatic doors, cool as can be.

"Hey!  I need a doctor over here!"  The Marine called.

"Fill out of form and wait in line, like the rest of us!"  Called a woman from behind a desk, and there was chuckling from the hoards of people who were nursing various injuries and illnesses, all waiting to be looked at.

"She needs medical attention now."

"That's what they all say."  Said the nurse, not looking up from her magazine.  "Fill out a form—"

"Lady, listen to me.  This woman can't even walk.  She's so thin that a three-year-old could pick her up.  Now, I don't know about you, but if I were in your place, I might want to check her out before she expires on us all, 'k?"

This got the nurse's attention.  She closed the magazine, and set it on her desk, getting up.

The Marine set Usagi down on a chair, and the nurse knelt down in front of her.

"Holy cow, she's like, anorexic or something!"

"I am NOT anorexic!" Usagi grumbled.

The nurse ignored her, and picked around the robe, lifting up a section that was torn, to reveal Usagi's midriff, which was slashed with a brutal wound that hadn't healed.

"You should be bleeding to death!"  The nurse breathed in shock, staring at the wound, and then looking up to Usagi.  She pulled out a small flashlight from her front pocket and flicked it on, aiming the beam in Usagi's eyes.

"You are horribly dehydrated!  That may be why…"  Her eyes wandered back to the gash.  "I'll go get a doctor…"

The nurse practically ran down the hall.  She put a walkie-talkie to her lips, and you could faintly hear her.  "We need a doc from the ER to the Outpatient area, stat!"

"You're getting help now; you're okay?"  Asked the Marine.

"Yeah," Usagi replied.  She looked up at him.  _What a great guy.  _"Seriously.  Thanks.  Tell your commanding officer that I'm really grateful and that you deserve a medal."

The Marine laughed.  "I'll do that.  And you're welcome.  I was just doing the right thing."

Usagi gave him a huge smile.  "And I'm very happy that you did."

The Marine smiled back at her, and turned to leave, briskly walking away.

"Hey, what's your name?"  Usagi yelled after him, but he was already out the sliding door.

Usagi didn't even have time to be disappointed before very concerned medical personnel assaulted her…

"The only reason that I hadn't bled to death was because I was dehydrated, like the nurse said.  They stitched me up, and gave me an IV.  They couldn't give me solid food, of course, I would reject it." Usagi explained.  "The doctor had found out about my being in a coma.  During surgery he pulled tree bark from my scalp—"

"That's disgusting!" Entered a new voice from behind them.

Usagi twisted around in her seat, her mouth dangling open.

Arthur Weasley stood in the open frame of the doorway, smiling at her.  Tears were reflected in his eyes.  Beside him stood a young woman with short, spiked, pink hair, whom Usagi didn't recognize, and Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"Arthur!"  Usagi squealed, rising from her seat, and rushing forward.

"Haven't lost your touch."  Mr. Wealsey grunted a moment later, after a happy Usagi had tackled him to the floor.  "Usagi, I'd like you to say hello to Nymphadora Tonks, a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix…"

~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~!@!~

            _Plenus Iacere—_Its Latin for 'full throw'.  The effect is that the people in the immediate vicinity get thrown back 30 yards.

            _Lux est Potentia—_This is Latin for 'light is power'.  This is a special spell, you'll hear more about it in later chapters,

            I have a lot more of Chapter 3 coming.  Tons of flashbacks, as you can see.   But, I wanted to get it out before I leave for San Diego.  I'm going to train in a military hospital (Naval, in fact).  So, in light of that, I decided to let a Marine play a small part in this chapter.  So, this is Chapter 3A, part B is coming up soon.  Don't worry, Sevvie will meet Usagi soon!  I hope you liked the interaction between them during the Death Eater scene.   More about Usagi's fighting past later on.  I have shout-outs to reviewers!

Ephirel--  Thank you for your comments.  More on Fudge's relationship with Usa later.  BTW, this story takes place just after Hogwarts lets out for the summer.

Sapphireskies—Sorry, but I'm going to stick with the canon on this story.  If it helps, I really loved Sirius too.  I even joined the web clique 'Black Isn't Dead'—'for fans Sirius denial'.  I still can't believe he's dead! *sniff*

Lost-Star—I'll try to include more detail, thanks for the suggestion.  SS is Severus Snape, just for the record.

Anna—Thanks for the comments.  I will continue with Voldemort on Ice, but I won't leave this one alone.  Too many people like it, I see.  Lets see if I can juggle two fics at once.  All come, see the amazing, juggling Crescendo!

Serenity6456—Now you have something to click on.  Enjoy.

AngelDust159—Genius? *blush*  I don't know about THAT.. But thanks for the review.  It really means a lot to me.  That goes out to all of you reviewers!

Sorcha—thanks for the honest review.  I hope this chapter doesn't come up short in the areas you mentioned.

Thanks to all of the reviewers!  I really appreciate you guys, and look what you accomplished!  Half of a chapter from me so quick!  I'm tellin' you guys, feedback stimulates the brain.

            Crescendo likes feedback.  ^_^  Crescendo also likes cheesecake and Snape.


	4. Chapter 3 part B

Okay, everyone. Please don't kill me.

Please.

I know, its 2/3 of a year since I've last updated this fic. But I have been working on it. Slowly and surely. In fact, there is more of it sitting on my hardrive at this very moment, waiting to be added to. I was going to elongate this chapter, but decided that I had tortured you enough. To be honest, this is almost a filler chapter. Its mostly dialogue, and it gets events across that need to known before the rest of the story continues. I do have excuses, however, for not getting this up sooner.

1) School. Need I say more? I'm taking four honors classes, 2 sciences, and a foreign language. Plus choir and other extracurricular activities. I'm filling out AP applications, and struggling with my grades.

2) Perfectionism. I am, by nature, a perfectionist, especially with writing. I have been drafting, editing, cutting, pasting, copying, and rewriting like demon. I treat my fanfiction as one would a sacred (though it is hardly of that quality). That said, I am thoroughly disenchanted with this chapter, but, alas, I don't think that it could be written much better (not by me, anyway). Plus I really want to put it up.

I would like to thank my beta reader, Riru, and LadyCatherine16 who so graciously offered to beta for me… Also, I would like to apologize to Riru for taking so long writing this fic, and for not giving her the final version to beta. Riru, I'm sorry, and there are reasons for this. You already saw most of it, and I was so impatient. Thank you!

For the rest of the reviewers, thank you very much! It means so much to me that you read and liked the story.

Dear readers, please understand that this is a PG-13 fic for a reason, and more of that will be coming out, especially in this chapter. There is some strong language, embarrassing drinking stories, and breif nudity.

As always, Sailormoon and Harry Potter do not belong to me, though I invite both Naoko Tacheuchi and JK Rowling to share the royalties. I am, after, a starving artist.

!!!!!!!!

"Haven't lost your touch," Mr. Wealsey grunted a moment later, after a happy Usagi had tackled him to the floor. "Usagi, I'd like you to say hello to Nymphadora Tonks, a fellow member of the Order of the Phoenix…"

"Its just Tonks, Arthur, Tonks!" Spouted the girl with the pink hair. "Honestly, I don't know what my mother was thinking, giving me that first name."

Usagi laughed and shook her hand. "My middle name is Serenity. A mouthful isn't it?"

"Quite," Tonks replied, smiling.

"Oh! And Kingsley!" Usagi turned to Shacklebolt, and rewarded him with a hug too. "It's been too long, hasn't it?"

"It has, Usagi, it has," he responded, looking a little choked up.

Usagi stepped back from the embrace, and bit her lip, looking at the group. Tears pooled in her eyes, shimmering like rainbows in the light.

"I just can't believe it!" She sobbed, stepping forward to be hugged by Arthur Weasley again. "I thought I'd never see you all again! I m-m-missed you all s-so much!"

"We thought you were dead, Usagi," Arthur told her, his own tears striking the light.

"For good reason! Some of the time I almost was! Oh, Arthur, I can't believe I'm with you all again!"

"Spare us your histrionics, Usagi," an almost imperious voice boomed.

"Hongershure!" Berated a woman and a man simultaneously, following an extremely large man into Fudge's office. Fudge himself didn't look entirely pleased at the turnout of visitors.

Usagi yanked away from Arthur, and faced the sandy haired man, who towered above her. "Lars!" She squealed, and threw her arms around his waist. More crying ensued, punctuated by several, 'I missed you so much!'

Lars Hongershure, the head of the Department of Defense, 6'7", rolled his eyes, but looked pleased and almost teary himself. Finally he couldn't take it anymore, and pulled Usagi's tightly clasped arms away from his waist.

"All right, all right, you've made your point, now suck it up, Auror!"

Usagi giggled. "I'm not an Auror anymore, Lars."

"Yes, _Lars,_" sniggered the man who was following him. "Legislation says that after one is removed from the MIA list, he or she is no longer in the armed forces."

Hongershure glared at him. "Don't you ever call me Lars again!" He declared hotly, and turned back to Usagi. "Once an Auror, always an Auror. They're born, not made. Besides, I want you out in the field as soon as I can get you out there!"

"Who says I'm coming back?" Usagi replied. "I have to clear things up with the Order of the Phoenix first."

"Dammit, Usagi, you're the best I've ever had! No offense," he added, looking at Tonks, and the woman and the man that were with him.

"None taken," they chorused.

"Ooh!" Usagi squealed, turning to the woman and Tonks. "Female Aurors?"

"Positive," Tonks replied.

Usagi shrieked with delight, and hugged both of them. "Are there more?"

"We have 40 females in the department, not counting field core men."

Usagi seemed even more pleased. "Oh, I'm so happy to hear that! It was horrible when I was in—only two others, and they were field core men!"

"Yes, there are a lot more now—thanks to you, Usagi," the woman said, grinning. "You really opened things up here, you know. You turned Hongershure here into a believer, when we all know, you especially, how he hated women in combat. I'm Melanie Fuum, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Melanie." Usagi shook her hand.

"Well, this is all so very wonderful and everything," Hongershure interrupted, looking annoyed, "women's lib, gung ho, and all, but I'm trying to say something here!"

"Sorry, Lars," Usagi apologized.

"Usagi, I'm going to be brutally honest with you—"

"Aren't you always brutally honest, Hongershure? You know, little to none in the tact area?"

"Watch it, Melanie. As I was saying, things are getting tough with these Death Eaters. They give us so much shit that it could run the Hoover Dam. We've had fifteen casualties since the Ministry OFFICIALLY acknowledged You-Know-Who's return— our intelligence department has been screaming about it for ages— and its getting worse. They're not easy to trace, and You-Know-Who hasn't beefed up his forces yet, so there's a slim to zero chance of going undercover. We need someone with your capabilities."

"So take Mad-Eye out of retirement," Usagi shrugged. "Besides, I'm not physically ready yet."

"Then we can PT together!"

"LARS! Remember the last time we PTed?"

"Good times." Lars nodded his head as Usagi recalled the memory.

"Negative, Lars!" Usagi responded, looking strained. "One hundred and eight push-ups? I'd rather have the stomach flu!" She looked pale at the thought alone.

"Physical Training can save your life, you know." Hongershure crossed his arms in front of his chest, his signature pose for debating.

"Excuse me," someone said.

"Yes, but it hurts!"

"So suck it up, Usagi!"

"Its not that easy, Lars—"

"Excuse me!"

"Sorry," Usagi said, turning to Fudge, who looked something short of frustrated. "Is there something you want?"

"Well, yes, there is something I want! I would like you to finish you're story so that I can properly deal with whatever problem there is and return to work." He accented this statement with a brisk windmill motion of his arm, which sent a leaning pile careening to the floor. Usagi sank to her knees and helped him collect the mess.

"That won't happen," Hongershure replied for Usagi. "You see, sir, everybody is celebrating right now, more or less."

"Celebrating?" Fudge looked up, surprised.

"But of course. There has been so much bad news this past week that hearing that one of our beloved comrades escaped death gives us a reason to celebrate. After all, we will have very little to celebrate in the future. Just three days ago, I received the worst news possible—that You-Know-Who is back AND the Ministry was warned and did nothing about it."

"Well, I have work to do," he said, blatantly ignoring Hongershure last comment, "so, Usagi, a little less horseplay, a little more narration, please," Fudge dictated, and stalked moodily back to his desk.

"Okay, no problem." Usagi shrugged. "Guess you guys have to leave now. Sorry."

"Not happening," Arthur cut in. "I haven't seen you for 16 years, don't expect me to leave so soon."

"Hear, hear!" The rest of them said in mixed unison, even some people that Usagi had never met before in her life.

Fudge scowled, but didn't say anything.

Everybody quieted down, and sat on the floor, as Usagi resumed her seat next to Dumbledore, who looked amused at the entire scene.

"Well, I did have a long stay in the hospital…"

"Miss Tsukino? Miss Tsukino?"

Usagi heard her surname, but did not comprehend that someone was calling. She felt strange—light-headed and lethargic. There was an odd ringing in her ears, and she felt the brunt of much pain. She groaned slightly.

"Wake up, please, Miss Tsukino."

Usagi opened her eyes, and found herself on a gurney, a blanket over her, and an IV dangling overhead. Nurses were wheeling her into a ward called PACU, which she later learned meant Post-Anesthetic Care Unit.

She was set-up with a gastric tube— up her nose and mouth, and down her throat, and she was fed liquid food. She slept for a while, and was watching a TV show, when the curtains parted.

"Well, if it isn't our miracle patient!" A doctor smiled at her, his stethoscope gleaming importantly, draped over his neck.

Usagi smiled back, and answered his questions cheerfully. He checked her vitals himself, and said that she was in stable condition, and was to be transferred.

"This is Coreman Robert Harris. He will be transferring you." The doctor made another remark at her ability to stay alive for 'a year, by what we have seen, probably without food or water', and went on his way.

"Good morning!" Harris beamed at her energetically, and took on the voice of drawling airplane attendant. "Please keep your trays in an upright and locked position. The weather will be slightly cloudy, little chance of rain, though. Please enjoy your flight!" He wheeled her out, and nearly scared her half to death by pretending to lose control of the gurney. Her shrieks and laughter could be heard through out the halls, but Usagi didn't care. She was having fun with the goofy coreman. Conversation however lapsed when they waited for the elevator to open. Several minutes passed, and Harris, annoyed, punched the button lightly and expressed his feelings.

"I'm sure you don't have anything better to do than transport me, so why the hurry?" Usagi teased.

Harris feigned injury. "Of course I have other things to do! I need to drop off that chit for the breastfeeding class. Think I'll get in it?"

Usagi laughed. "I don't think you're the gender they're looking for, sorry."

"Hey! I'm just trying to stimulate intellectual activity, and better serve my colleagues, my workplace, my Navy."

"You're in the Navy?"

"Yup—Navy coreman. We've established a bit of a presence here, so we have a small hospital. We usually don't treat civilians, unless they're dependents of military members, but in this case, it was an Emergency."

Usagi was surprised. The elevator arrived soon, and she was wheeled into another ward, where Harris bid her good-bye. She was quite disappointed to see him go.

Usagi spent the next three months regaining her health and her memories, which, with help of the doctors and nurses, returned to her. She had been set back six months, by the head injury that she sustained. Tears were shed as she remembered colleagues that had perished in her forgotten memories, and then the tears were those of joy when she recalled how her dear friend Severus Snape had finally decided to rid himself of fellowship with Voldemort. She could not tell this to the doctors, who were just as curious as she was as to why she ended up in Panama, and how she was injured. Usagi told them that she remembered being thrown into a tree by a shady looking figure, whom she had caught red-handed with illegal narcotics. Since the drug trade was a problem in Panama, they supposed that he had been importing illegal substances into the country, and since Usagi posed a threat, took her with him, but disposed of her, thinking her dead (she had been quite comatose). She made up an appearance for the figure, and a few days later after her tale, a Commander came in and sat down with a pad and pen, asking for the description of the figure and the narcotics he was carrying.

Usagi felt horrible giving him false information, but she didn't have a choice. How she could tell a muggle military about Voldemort? But a more imposing problem sought her thoughts—how was she going to pay for this medical care? The answer came from her falsehood.

Usagi questioned the doctor who discharged her about this, and she gave Usagi a benign smile, and told her that the Commander who had seen to recording her information would be in shortly.

He informed her that her information, though dated about three years, was indeed valid and potent. From it they were able to gain more evidence about a drug trader, and then warrant a search, arrest the man, and froze and seized several bank accounts, one of which held about $300,000 dollars in US dollars. This, the Commander told her with a smile, was more than enough to cover her medical care. The case was an odd one, but he said that since she had provided such important (and profitable) intelligence, any outstanding debt against her would be nullified.

_What luck! _Usagi thought to herself. _Not only did my story help out; it served me a purpose as well! Hopefully, I'll never have to do anything like that again! Ugh—I hate dishonest people, and I don't want to be one myself!_

Usagi was looking very much forward to going home, informing the people that she loved that she was, indeed, alive, and learning of the situation with Voldemort. She hadn't heard anything drastic from the muggles here—so it must be that the forces were still holding out.

It was when the Doctor announced that someone in the Panama government would be handling her return and complications from her entry into the country that she felt the first pains of uneasiness. As far as she knew, the hospital had kept her visit there confidential, and since it was a military-run place, she didn't think that they would be volunteering anything to the residing government of Panama. She tried not to think anything of it, until a few hours before she was supposed to be discharged, the person arrived.

He looked vaguely familiar to her when she saw him, and this more than anything seemed to pronounce her fears. It was a couple seconds before she recalled where she might have seen him before.

This man, with his dark skin, short, cropped black hair, and trimmed goatee, was not working for the Panama government.

He was working for the Panama Ministry of Magic.

She remembered disliking him on sight when, a couple years before, he had visited with his boss to see Fudge, and her distaste for him seemed to be correct, because Fudge had mentioned that he caught the diplomat riffling through classified materials.

Now Usagi knew beyond doubt that something was not right.

He walked up to her in a freshly pressed suit, looking very muggle, and very expensive.

"Miss Usagi Tsukino, I presume?" He smirked haughtily; giving the impression that he had a bit of nasty gossip to share.

"You are correct." Usagi told him, trying to keep her voice neutral. "And you, in turn, are the diplomat Nicolae Partana from the Panama Ministry of Magic?"

This seemed to knock him off kilter for a few sweet seconds, but he merely nodded, and smoothed out his tie as if her words had soiled it. Reaching inside his breast pocket, he pulled out a piece of paper. He unfolded the document, and straightened it with a pompous flourish.

"Ms. Usagi Serenity Tsukino, citizen of the government of Great Britain, former Auror of the British Ministry of Magic, first class, decorated for meritorious service, etcetera, etcetera, is charged on the following crimes:

"Conspiracy to commit treason, conspiracy against the Ministry, and aiding and abetting a criminal(s)."

"What?" Usagi gasped, completely taken by surprise. "Who is indicting me?"

"Why, the Ministry of Magic, of Panama."

"Of Panama?! Didn't that paper of yours just say that I am a citizen of Great Britain! My own Ministry should be trying me, thank you very much. Everything on that paper is void until I am charged with the crimes in England."

Partana smirked again. "My Ministry does not recognize that particular law."

"It is a law that _my_ Ministry recognizes, and to that Ministry I belong. The laws of your Ministry do not matter in that case."

"Oh you are very wrong."

"Am I?" Usagi taunted back, her eyes blazing with fury. "Does my Ministry even know that I am here?"

"Of course not," he replied coolly. "It in no longer their concern. You have been separated from them for a while now; they have forgotten all about you. I don't care to enlighten them."

Usagi frowned deeply, and folded her arms. "I know for a fact that THAT policy is not observed by either the English Ministry, or the one here in Panama."

"That is none of my concern."

"Oh, it is, and it will be. I will see to it." Usagi liked him less and less. Why, the little rat was betraying even his own policy! Something, and, more importantly, someone, was behind this, and Usagi was going to find out just who it was.

"Will you now?" He bantered; looking thoroughly pleased with himself. "Too bad, Miss Tsukino. You will be taken to a prison, if by force, so be it."

"Fine!" Usagi snapped. "I will go there if it is necessary, but I know my rights. I want an attorney, and I want a trial."

"You will get none. Our courts have already deemed you guilty, so you will serve your sentence."

"WHAT?!" Usagi yelled, jumping up. "I wasn't not aware that I was being tried, and I didn't have counsel to represent me! That is so illegal that I am going to sue you up the Panama Canal!"

"In your dreams."

"Negative! I will read the whole prison legal library if need be!"

Partana laughed. He reached behind him and brought out a box, tossing it to Usagi. "Put it on, and tuck in the price tags. It is not yours to keep."

Usagi opened it. It was a nice dress, with a pair of cheap underwear, and a bra. He had also brought her some shoes.

"Fine. I'll go with you." Usagi walked up to him, and leveled her face with his. Their noses almost touched. Animosity seemed to crackle in the air. "But know this: it's far from over."

Partana snorted, and walked out of the room. Usagi drew the curtain behind him, and put on the dress, taking much pleasure out of ripping off the price tag so that he couldn't return it. She slipped on the shoes, adjusted her hair, and walked out again. He was talking with her doctor.

"All right, let's leave," he said when he saw her. Usagi waved goodbye. Apparently, he had gotten permission to take her away earlier. It made her blood boil.

"Why am I being charged?" Usagi asked him as they walked down the halls. Important doctors bustled by with vigor, unconcerned with Usagi's deepening frown.

"Because you are a Death Eater, or planning to be one." Oddly, his voice lacked an accusing tone. His beady black eyes stared dead ahead, not acknowledging any priority to the question.

"Excuse me?" Usagi gaped at him. "I most certainly am not!"

Partana sneered. "Your own Ministry has said that you have associated with Death Eaters when you were on the job as an Auror."

Usagi rolled her eyes. "Its called reconnaissance. Just because its something your Ministry doesn't have, does not mean that you have to harass ours."

"As if I care what it was."

Usagi took a second to look at him. He truly did not care about what he was doing to her. It was illegal, and it was morally wrong. He felt no remorse, and probably wouldn't feel any for the rest of his life. He was a despicable man. Usagi hated wearing the clothes that he had given her. Just the fact that he had probably bought them made her skin crawl.

Something came to the forefront of her mind just then, and without thinking, she asked one more question.

"How much are you getting paid for this?"

"22 million galleons," Partana blinked, and then scowled, apparently upset that he had answered her question. Usagi was surprised herself, but didn't show it. _22 million galleons… Someone must really want me out of their hair._

She left the hospital with him, and rode in his car. Usagi had been hoping to aparate, but had no such luck. It was muggle security through and through. Partana had procured a rental car, which smelled like bleach and cigarette smoke. Usagi fastened her seatbelt securely, and prayed that Partana could drive. She was partially afraid that he had half a mind to rear end someone, just to give her whiplash. In her frustration and anxiety, she didn't speak to him at all during the trip. She wasn't looking forward to being incarcerated.

It took them several hours to they reached the prison; it was very remote. Usagi stepped out, and was immediately grabbed by a large man with a thick accent. Partana followed behind her, as she was herded into the prison, and down a corridor full of cells. He opened one, and pulled all the other occupants out, before shoving her in. Partana followed. He turned to the burly man.

"Get her some clothes."

The man turned on his heel and departed immediately. Partana faced Usagi, his expression hidden by the shadows. The prison was dark. Windows were sparse, and the area was well shaded by trees. Gloom and decay affected to walls. Partana's charcoal gray suit seemed to blend into a similar persona.

"Take off your dress." He commanded.

Usagi flinched. "I will if you'll leave and shut the door."

"You will do as your told." He told her shortly. For a split second, she got the fleeting, abhorring impression that he had been waiting for this moment, waiting to see her undressed! Usagi stifled a horrified flinch at the thought, pushed the feeling away, not wanting any part of such a thought.

"Excuse me, but I won't undress in your presence—"

"YOU WILL DO AS I TELL YOU TO DO!" Partana barked, taking an imposing, ominous step forward. He was in his element now. Usagi saw that his personality and values were not suited to diplomatic work, but brutality. His fine, aristocratic features were blended with a yearning and excitement for violence, and such a mix turned them from the cool expression of an expensive government lackey into a brash man who couldn't think further than his own temper and trigger-happy nature.

She didn't say anything, faced with such a change. Her heart pounded so fiercely that the blood roared in her ears. How could it be that she was so afraid of Partana, just this second, than many of the Death Eaters that she had fought? Why were his imposing eyes grating her fear more than the spells of better wizards than him?

"You will take off your dress…" Partana was saying. His manner seemed cool, as it had been before, but none of the venom of rage had left his tone. "You will do it because you do not have a choice. Usagi Tsukino… You are off the map now. You are being controlled by me."

In an instant, Usagi knew that what he was saying was true. No one in the Ministry of Magic—either in Britain or in Panama, knew that she was here. No one knew who she was; what she was. No one cared.

How foolish she had been! An official sounding document, with words that were read by Partana made her think that some real charge had been given to her name! How stupid she was, to leave with him! She could have told the doctors, they would have been just as suspicious of Partana if she had let them onto his nature, if not his true profession! She was a prisoner to Partana because he fooled her—because he had been paid a high price for her imprisonment. This was not a Ministry run prison. She was officially lost to the world. Partana now controlled her, because she had handed him her life and freedom; for a document that wasn't real or confirmed.

"Take off your dress." He was insistent. And she didn't have a choice.

Usagi felt her face burn with shame. She turned around, and glared at Partana over her shoulder, using one hand to cover herself as best as she could, and the other to yank the dress over her head, and toss it to Partana, who caught it. There was enough light for her to see that he had a smirk on once again. She continued to glare. He was going to know that she felt injustice, and wouldn't soon forget it.

Usagi turned to him, clutching her arms in front of her. He was rifling through the dress.

SMACK!

Usagi gasped as a red haze invaded her vision. She was vaguely aware of collapsing to the cold cement, and bringing a hand to her cheek, which was burning with pain.

"You took the tag off."

It was about the damn dress!

What a horrid man, slapping her because she had pulled off a price tag! Well, the pain was worth it, seeing him so angry over a thing that mattered so little. The miser! Hadn't he been paid 22 million galleons to get rid of her? And he was worried about the price of a muggle dress!

There was the sound of footsteps walking away, and Usagi knew that Partana had left. Good. She was sick of his company, as well and sick of the notion that she was now under the control of another human being. Especially one as morally deprived as Partana.

The burly man returned, and gave her some gray clothes; a top and a pair of pants. Usagi slid them on, eager to cover her undergarments, which, she shuddered, had been briefly reveled to Partana. She noticed, with slight disgust, that the clothes were moth-eaten and threadbare; but at least they fit her.

The man herded the other occupants back into the cell. They were three men, with an explicit vocabulary, and vulgar manners. Usagi found herself disgusted. Since they were men, they decided that because of her sex, she would be cleaning up the cell. This made her furious, but she didn't have much choice. Plus, it was better than gambling with them, which is what they did in their spare time, using two dice that they carved out of a piece of wood.

The more time that Usagi spent in that prison, the more depressed she became. There were fleas in her bed, and she had to relieve herself in a bucket everyday. The food was delivered through the bars of the cell, and it was only a few slices of hardtack bread and beef broth. Sometimes the guards forgot to feed them.

Even more than the conditions in which she lived, was the atmosphere. The guards routinely got drunk, and harassed the prisoners, while Usagi heard of, and just plain heard, the terrible interrogations that went on. Luckily, no one ever came and decided that they wanted information from her. She assumed that Partana was through with her, once he had collected his hefty sum. She could picture him clearly in her mind. The charcoal gray suit he had worn when he had taken her here was replaced with gray robes of the finest wool. He counted galleons carefully with his nimble fingers, a gold glint reflecting in his sterile, cold black eyes. In her mental image, he would nonchantly twirl his goatee with a finger, much like male villains in old movies. She was probably right, anyway. Partana would be reveling in his money.

Usagi usually spent the next thoughts after those spent of Partana thinking about just who had paid him 22 million galleons to get rid of her. The curious thing was that he or she, whoever they were, didn't have her killed. Or, perhaps, Partana had just been too weak to actually kill someone. But who would pay such a sum to have her disposed of? And who would know that she was in Panama?

If there was one thing that she was thankful of, throughout the dismal circumstances that surrounded her in the prison, it was that there were no dementors there. Usagi hated the creatures with a passion. She couldn't imagine spending a week in Azkaban, much less a lifetime.

_If I was put into Azkaban, unjustly, I would find a way to escape, no matter what, _Usagi told herself. _I wouldn't allow myself to be held in prison, innocent, against my will…_

Usagi frowned at her train of thought. _But isn't that what I'm doing now?_ Taking a look at her situation, Usagi had to admit that she was doing exactly what she was telling herself she wouldn't do. Partana had faked her petition for arrest by a non-existent grand jury, and put her in jail against her will.

_But wouldn't it be illegal to sneak out? _Usagi snorted. This wasn't a Ministry run prison. Partana had put her here illegally. She knew that two wrongs don't make a right, but after all, the law was the law, not a moral code.

She made her decision. She would escape this horrible prison.

Usagi began to make observations. First of all, the rusty bars of the cell were quite weak. There was a poor welding job done, and she could easily break out using her abilities. She didn't have a wand, but luckily for her, she was one of a kind, a witch who could do a multitude of things without a wand. The guards were often intoxicated, and though they were big and brash, they lacked fighting skills and judgment.

Her cellmates wouldn't protest her breakout, and Usagi knew that about ten miles from the prison, there was a small town where people would ask very few questions.

So, she waited for the right time. That night, when the guards passed around some scotch, she put her newly formed plan into action.

Shifting, Usagi brought her back to rest against the harsh cement wall that was perpendicular to the metal bars that were closing off the cell.

Lifting her index finger, she concentrated for a second, and saw the blue light spring up from her finger. It wasn't just light, but Usagi would be hard-pressed to find another term for this particular ability. It was sheer power, magic without name, and it could be put to use destructively, or vice versa.

Holding her free hand next to the light, Usagi hid it from her cellmates, and began to apply it to the welding of the prison bars.

There was a slight hissing sound, and Usagi smiled with satisfaction as the bond began to weaken. Just before the bars would completely separated, Usagi pulled away, her job complete. It had taken her a good half hour, but that ensured that the guards would be so drunk that they were incoherent.

Usagi stood up abruptly, and kicked the bars, right where she had weakened the welding.

With a clang, the bars separated, and soared across the corridor, where they clattered against the cement wall, and fell with a tremendous clash to floor.

"Hey!"

That was one of her cellmates. Usagi wasted no time, and sprinted out of the cell, making a sharp left turn and heading down the corridor.

"Stop!" Came the slurred command of one of the guards, as he and his oversized comrades charged after her, the thoroughly nursed bottle of Scotch long forgotten.

Usagi made an expression that was a half a smile, half a grimace. She was prepared for the appearance of the guards. Stopping suddenly, she did an about face, drawing energy from her body, and released a beam of light that knocked the guards off their feet, throwing them back ten yards, before they hit the wall, and slumped to the floor.

Satisfied, Usagi continued to sprint, faintly hearing the surprised calls of her cellmates, who were urging each other to hurry up and leave.

"I then apparated to the town that I mentioned. I bribed someone, and they fed me, in exchange for some repair work. After that night, I teleported back to England…"

_It's so good to be back, _Usagi thought, as she stared up at the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, tears glinting in her eyes.

Smiling, she brushed her tears away, and entered the small pub.

Careful to avoid scaring anyone, she had changed her appearance after making a visit to her old home, which had been locked up, according to the will that she had left.

This made Usagi sure that everyone thought that she was dead. A couple of magical maneuvers got her past the locks, and she was able to secure a wand, and her pen.

It was a rare pen, even more rare than an invisibility cloak. Usagi could use it to change her appearance. Since it had a carving of a crescent moon on it, she affectionately called it her Luna Pen. Instead of her trademark odangos, she had chin-length ebony hair. It was a short-term change. Once she was in the Ministry, having things cleared up, she would revert back to her regular (and preferred) appearance.

"Can I 'elp ya?" Asked Tom, the bartender. His toothless grin had lost none of its welcome during Usagi's absence.

Usagi slapped some gold on the counter. "Floo powder. I need to use the grate." She told him, wasting no time on pleasantries.

"'Course." He replied, catching onto her business-like air, and reached beneath the counter. He pulled his hand back up, and held out the closed fist.

Usagi took the shiny powder from him, and walked over to the fire, tossing the powder into it.

"The Ministry of Magic!" She said clearly, and ducked beneath the mantle into the swirling flames.

A moment's movement, and she walked out of the larger grate, into the Ministry.

CRASH!

"You imbecile!"

Usagi cringed. Apparently, her clumsiness decided to come back and haunt her.

"I'm so sorry," She apologized, though being called an imbecile made her more than a little annoyed.

Rubbing her sore bottom, Usagi stood up, and began to pick up the parchment that was scattered.

The person that she had bumped into was continuing to rant, but Usagi ignored it. It was the basic routine. She was being called a stupid, idiotic excuse for a person.

Rising to her full height, Usagi was surprised. She out measured this female by at least a foot. And Usagi always considered herself short.

She handed the parchment to the squat woman, who tore the stack from Usagi with a wide hand covered with gaudy rings.

"Umbridge?" Usagi asked, a bit cross. Perfect, the first person she ran into in the Ministry was Dolores Umbridge.

The toad-like woman sniffed. "That Madame Umbridge to you. What are you doing in the Ministry?"

"I have business here." Usagi replied, silently adding _just like I have the right too._

"What kind of business?" Umbridge asked suspiciously.

Usagi sighed, and debated whether or not she should tell her. After all, Umbridge had never liked Usagi, and the feeling was mutual. The legislation that Umbridge pushed against having women in combat put Usagi's Auror position in jeopardy, and Usagi, in return, was called in as an expert for debate before the Wizengamot. Usagi, being the better debater, tended to win. The two began to see the other as rivals. Despite Umbridge's shortcomings, Usagi was sure that she did have the wizarding world's best interests at heart. Surely Umbridge could put her personal views aside for a time, enough time to reinstate Usagi's status.

Usagi's narration was interrupted by several snorts.

"Good luck!" Kinglsey Shackbolt said, shaking his head. "Umbridge has never had that ability."

Fudge opened his mouth, looking as if he was about to defend his former employee, but seeing the looks he received, wisely decided to shut it again.

"I know, it was stupid, wasn't it?" Usagi sighed. "But I told her, however shortsighted it was."

Arthur sighed. "I think I can see where this is going. She told you that the charges you had been arraigned with in Panama were real, didn't she?"

"Yes." Usagi nodded. "But she was much more clever than Partana ever was…"

"In here."

Usagi followed Umbridge's short form into the apartment. "I thought I was being charged for high crimes."

"You are." Umbridge turned to face her. "But Azkaban is overflowing with prisoners, so I will have to keep you here. A muggle will bring up groceries for you every Sunday." She made a move to leave through to fire place.

"You will set a date for an arraignment, won't you?" Usagi asked loudly, stopping Umbridge in her tracks.

"A grand jury has already taken care of that. A trial date will be set."

"Soon." Usagi added. "As is the right of the accused."

Umbridge stared at Usagi for a second, and got that wide, toad-like grin that Usagi had always hated. She twirled Usagi's wand in her hand, before pocketing it. "You will find," she said, "that the rights of the accused have changed."

Without another word, Umbridge disappeared into the flames.

"…Umbridge would come by every month to make sure that I was still there. She had put several powerful wards on the apartment, so I couldn't break out, even when the muggle that got me groceries came up, though I was allowed to open the door. I would remind her every time about the trial, but she would give me one excuse or another. Finally, after 11 years, I got fed up…"

Dolores stepped out of the grate, and dusted off her cloak.

"Why hello, Dolores."

Startled, the squat woman looked up. Usagi sat on the sofa, leaning back languidly, her feet propped up on the coffee table.

"I've been waiting for you," Usagi said. "We have business. What day is my trial set for?"

"I don't have a date set yet," Umbridge replied, as sweetly as she could.

"Damn it, Umbridge!" Usagi yelled, sitting up and slamming her fist on the table. "It's been eleven fucking years. Law states that there is to be a quick and speedy trial. That is not quick and speedy! And I haven't even been arraigned in front of a judge. I want a trial, and I want it now. If I don't get it now, then I want a damn good explanation!"

"Well, you see," Umbridge began to reply, wringing her hands, "Your case is so hard to defend that I haven't been able to find an attorney for you yet—"

"Bull shit!" Usagi roared. "Everything in those charges was based on PURELY CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE! That's a damn easy job for a defense lawyer! And if you can't find one—appoint one! I believe that you have an ability to do that, do you not? The ministry provides attorneys for those who need them!"

"A trial will be set, you must be patient. How selfish of you to try and work the justice system!"

Usagi seemed taken aback by the comment. She looked at Umbridge and then shook her head. "Unless you want to be cursed out, I suggest that you leave."

"I have no problem with that," Dolores replied smoothly, and stepped back into the grate.

Usagi watched her leave, and then let out a long sigh. "Damn you, Usagi!" She held her head in her hands. "How could I be so stupid?"

A timid knock interrupted her bout of self-bashing.

Sighing again, Usagi got up, and opened it. In the frame stood a teenager, with baggy pants.

"Hello, Tony," Usagi greeted him, and took the grocery bags from his outstretched hands. "How's the weather out there?"

"Pretty good, Miz T," Tony replied. "Lil' cold, but that's 'k."

Usagi nodded.

"You all right, Miz T?" Tony asked her. "Ya look kinda mad, if ya know what I mean."

Usagi ran her free hand through her hair. "Tony, do you ever wonder why I ask you about the weather?"

"Well, yeah."

"It's because I haven't gone outside for the entire time that you've been delivering groceries," Usagi told him. "I haven't been outside in 11 years."

Tony stared at her, apparently startled by this revelation. "You under house arrest, Miz T?"

"Something like that," Usagi said. "And I just found out that I'm under house arrest illegally."

Tony seemed to think for a minute. "My dad has a berretta," he finally said, "I could, uh, get it for ya. 'Cause if it's illegal, then…"

Usagi debated the trouble that Tony would get into with his parents, but then realized that since he had volunteered the weapon, that he knew the consequences. "That's really nice of you, Tony," she said sincerely.

"You've been a good friend, Miz T, and nobody should be stuck in place like this… I mean, no playstation!"

Usagi chuckled a little. "Yeah, thanks Tony. I guess I'll take you up on the offer."

Tony grinned. "I'll have it and some ammunition by next Sunday."

"See you then." Usagi bid him farewell, and closed the door. She was now smiling. Doubtless, Umbridge had a wand, and could deflect bullets, but it was a skill that few even in the Defense department knew about, considering that they were rarely in situations that involved muggle weapons. Of course, Mad-Eye Moody wanted it to be a standard, but that was a different story entirely…

The next week, Tony delivered, besides the groceries, a Berretta 9mm, with subsequent ammunition. Usagi thanked him, and mentally vowed that she would make it up to him later. Idly, she looked over the weapon, and noticed that the serial number had been stripped off, probably from acid. _Damn, that kid is smart._

A few weeks later, Usagi sat waiting on the couch, keeping a vigilant watch out for Umbridge. She was not disappointed, because the woman came in by floo powder within the hour.

Dolores coughed for a few minutes, and then turned to Usagi. "Still here," she said.

"Yes, but not for long," Usagi replied, standing up, the gun at her side, hidden in the folds of her robes. "Give me your wand."

"I—what? No!"

Usagi raised the gun, and took aim. "Give me your wand or face the consequences."

Umbridge stared at it for a second. "Is that—what, that is one of those muggle, fire, fire, firelegs, fire—"

"It's a gun," Usagi answered for her.

Umbridge burst out in laughter. "One of those muggle weapons? Against magic?"

Usagi smiled. "It is able to kill you."

Umbridge shook her head. "I am a witch, surely not—"

Usagi lined up her sights, and pointed the muzzle several inches about Umbridge head, before firing, bracing herself against the kick.

Umbridge shrieked as the bullet penetrated the plaster, making a large crack, and sending dust flying down on top of her head, coating the large, velvet bow in white powder.

"_Expellariamus!" _She shouted, and the blue streak of light shot out of her wand. It flew toward Usagi, but did nothing.

"This is gun, not a wand," Usagi said, talking as if one would to a child of two years. "G-U-N. Gun. The Disarming Spell only works on wands. W-A-N-D-S. And speaking of wands, give me yours."

Umbridge could only open and close her mouth, a fish out of water.

Usagi sighed, impatient. "I just shot a bullet through that wall. A bullet out of this gun flies faster than you can see. I pull this trigger, and if I aim it right, it will go right through your heart, out of your back, and through the wall, all before you knew that it was fired. You do not know how to magically deflect bullets. It would be in both of our best interests if you gave your wand to me."

"I'll charge you for this!" Umbridge shrieked shrilly. "This is a crime!"

"And so is keeping me in this apartment without a inditement, and not giving me a fair and speedy trial," Usagi replied scornfully. "You charge me, I charge you. If you take me down, you're going with me. I know that your career is much more important to you than keeping me away from the women in combat legislation. Cut the dramatics, and hand over the wand."

Umbridge scowled, and complied.

Usagi, now fully armed, pointed both at her. "Now, throw some floo on the fire, and get your ass out of my sight before you give me a reason." She waved the gun threateningly.

Umbridge gave a small 'eep', and was in the floo fire as fast as her short, fat legs would allow her.

"…Using her wand, I removed the wards on the apartment and went out. That was a year ago. I learned my lesson from Umbridge, and went about revealing myself very carefully. I, of course, read up on what had happened with Voldemort—"

Several people jumped.

"—Oh, really!" Usagi sighed. "Voldemort. And I have been keeping an eye on things, and working the grapevine. Eventually, my message ended up on your desk, Dumbledore, and here I am."

There was a brief moment of silence before Fudge spoke. "About threatening Umbridge with the gun, it IS a crime—"

"Cornelius, do you know how many bullets I intended to fire?" Usagi asked pleasantly.

"Well, no—"

"Just the one that I did. All I needed was one to suffiently scare her. Besides, I believe that it was legal in that circumstance, considering that I was being held against my will."

"That is correct—"

"But what I really think is important," Usagi continued, "is that you can verify for me that there is truly no such charges against me."

Fudge laughed a little. "Don't be silly, or course there aren't. You have actually been rewarded for faithful service. It's on your MIA star, in the bottom level. But now that you are no longer MIA, we will have to chisel it out of the marble." He frowned. "Damn. The taxpayers aren't going to like this at all. We already have the Fountain to replace."

"Actually, Cornelius," Dumbledore said, "keep that star right where it is. Someone paid 22 million galleons to get Usagi out of the way, and it was someone very well informed, to have known that she was in Panama. I suggest that we keep it quiet."

"Well, that's going to hard, considering that after the little show she put on outside, pretty much everyone in the ministry knows," Hongershure said, frowning.

"Yes, but lucky for Cornelius, he has much practice in the art of writing gag orders for the press and ministry employees," Dumbledore reminded the party happily. "He should have no trouble at all keeping this quiet from any outside ears—including the families of those who Usagi has been revealed to. Is that correct Cornelius?"

Fudge looked uncomfortable. "I-I can pull a few strings."

"Good." Dumbledore inclined his head. "Of course, this matter with Umbridge will be investigated by the Wizengamot?"

Now, Fudge was visibly squirming in his plush, burgundy velvet chair. "Erm—I can look into it, yes."

"I was under the impression that a report like Usagi's would be investigated thoroughly, according to law," came the deep, slow voice of Kingsley.

"Well, there are exceptions to every law—"

"Umbridge is still employed, isn't she?" Usagi asked Fudge quietly.

However soft her tone, the steel in Usagi's eyes and voice silenced the other conversing persons in the room.

"Well, I-I—"

"It's a yes or no question." Usagi's voice was definitively icy.

"I-erm, yes." Fudge avoided her eyes.

"May I ask why?" There was still the quiet, firm, and steely note in her words.

Fudge clenched his fists. "She was with the ministry for many years! She was my Senior Undersecretary for Merlin's sake! Firing her would have too much political backlash, and I'm already in the pressure-cooker for this business with You-Know-Who! Demoting her was the more… gentle action."

"You have heard, of course, of how she planned to use Crusiatus Curse on a certain Hogwarts student, and how she handled detentions, besides her various… other ways of using Dementors."

"Yes, I believe I have."

"And yet you feel that it is all right to have her still in your employment."

Fudge sighed, and ran a hand through his graying hair. "… This isn't exactly a black and white issue, Usagi…"

Usagi laughed lightly; coldly. "Black and white is such a politically correct term… Its called right and wrong, Fudge. Well, I guess that takes care of business here, does it not?"

"Not so fast, Usagi," Dumbledore told her, turning toward the flustered minister. "I want the Auror Department Intelligence to look in any sign of information about Usagi being Panama, and whom that information was available to. I want to know just who paid Partana that 22 million."

"But I thought that Umbridge—" Usagi began—

"Yes, she kept you as her prisoner, but I am not sure that she paid that money. Doubtless, she has a very large salary, but she has a very poor skill at investing, if the Daily Prophet's reports are any indication. There could be others, and I want no stone unturned," Dumbledore said sternly.

"I will see to it personally, sir," Hongershure volunteered.

"Thank you, Hongershure," Dumbledore said, giving the large man a gracious nod. "And now, Usagi, I think that we are through with business in this office. If you would follow me… Good day, Cornelius, and I would like to seriously advise you to change your policy towards Umbridge. We have no place in the fight against Voldemort for people of her character."

The crowd that was sitting on the floor immediately rose to their feet, and shuffled out of the way for Dumbledore and Usagi. When they had reached the doorway, Usagi snapped her fingers, and turned around with the air of someone who had forgotten something.

"Oh, and Cornelius?"

Fudge looked up warily. Usagi could tell that he was tiring of her company.

"Go easy on the booze, will ya? The last thing we need right now is a lush for a minister."

Usagi just saw a glimpse of Fudge's shocked and insulted open-mouthed expression before she darted out of the office, her lithe body taking quick, agile strides to catch up to Dumbledore, who somber gaze was broken by a small smirk.

"What's so funny?" Usagi asked, offhandedly waving at the many who were gawking at her, and tearing up as they clustered about in the hallway.

"I'm just glad that you didn't have any of that Firewhiskey," he told her, "considering the fact that you can't handle much alcohol—or wasn't able to until you built up tolerance."

"Shh!" Usagi shushed him, looking about, embarrassed. "I told you never to talk about that."

"But it makes such a amusing story! You are so charming when you're tipsy."

Usagi gasped. "Why, Albus Dumbledore, I never thought that I'd hear something like that from you, of all people. Even though you don't have a right to be scandalized about that night, getting drunk is not amusing—"

"Indeed, getting drunk is not something funny, it is the naiveté that you exhibited that night that was so amusing."

"It's not funny, it's embarrassing. Besides, how was I to know? That was the first time I had ever had any kind of alcohol, and taking shots of Tequila is sure to put me under—"

"Usagi," Dumbledore said, exasperated, "it's a funny story, though not suitable for children, and I think it's high time you stop being embarrassed about it."

Usagi merely grumbled.

"Ah, here is your star that Cornelius mentioned," Dumbledore said, tactfully changing the subject.

Usagi looked up in the direction that he was pointing to. Under the MIA heading, etched into the marble were eighty black stars, one of which had her name above it, and her awards listed under it. Usagi took a step closer, squinting at it. "The list seems to have grown," she said.

Dumbledore merely smiled politely.

_Usagi Tsukino, Auror 1st Class_

_First Fully-Fledged Female Auror_

_Order of Merlin 3rd Class, Silver Star for Valour (won twice, nominated 3 times), the Witchcraft Society of Feminism's Award for the Advancement of Witches in Magical Society, the Bronze Pentacle for Bravery in Combat, the Titanium Badge for Advancements in the Department of Defense, the Legion of Excellence for Services to the Wizengamot, and the Award of Merit._

"I won an ORDER OF MERLIN?!" Usagi said loudly, causing others to turn their heads towards her.

"Usagi, your work in the Ministry is only just beginning to be appreciated," Dumbledore smiled, "and I have a feeling that a third class Order of Merlin is just the beginning."

Usagi shook her head. "No way. There has to be some mistake. I mean, I barely did anything. Okay, the women's equality stuff, that was a contribution, but anything else—"

"You came up with more efficient ways of gathering intelligence, took down many criminals, cleaned up the system, ousted several moles, constructed a system to identify the mental stability of witnesses, came up with a plan for training new Aurors that took advantage of technology that the enemy had but we didn't, wrote groundbreaking reports on how Animagi could help counterintelligence… You're accomplishments go on and on. Usagi, you transformed the Defense Department. If you hadn't gone missing, then I would bet a significant amount of Galleons that you would be the head of the Department of Defense. And if you will help us in this war against Voldemort as much as I think you will—you could become the first female Minister of Magic."

"Albus, you flatter me," Usagi said, shaking her head.

"No, Usagi, you just don't know how well you'd do in a desk position."

"Maybe not," Usagi replied, "but thank you anyway. I'm just glad that I did something that made a difference. However, this star isn't the reason that we're back in the lobby of the Ministry."

"You're right. Follow me; I'm going to go down to the Department of Mysteries. I doubt we will be interrupted there, and it was the setting for some serious events that took place a few weeks ago."

"I was cleared to go down there before, but now that I was MIA—" Usagi began.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I doubt that security clearances will be a problem. Don't worry about the technicalities. I'm taking advantage of the fact that Cornelius relies on me now, since Voldemort's return has been made public. If I want you to come will me down to the Department of Mysteries, you'll come down with me to the Department of Mysteries, whether you're cleared or not."

Usagi smiled. Albus Dumbledore hadn't changed much. He was still whimsical and wise; and carried an authority that was neither confirmed nor denied, but rarely challenged.

He led the way, and Usagi followed. They went back past the security guard, who merely had to glance at Dumbledore, and waved them through. Usagi, though she liked to get in and out of places quickly, was not pleased.

"Excuse me," she said indignantly, looking at the guard.

"What?" He asked her shortly. Circles under his eyes showed that he had been during a graveyard shift as of late.

"Aren't you going to check our wands? You know, to make sure that we're the people that our nametags say we are?"

The guard looked irritated. "Lady, you've got to be kidding me. C'mon, this is Albus Dumbledore…"

"Or looks and acts like Albus Dumbledore!" Usagi cut in. "Honestly, a mediocre actor with a Polyjuice potion could get through here. Do you want to be responsible for the destruction of the Ministry? No? Then I suggest that you start checking out people, no matter who they look like! Here—" she thrust her wand at him. Dumbledore, smiling, did the same.

Obviously, their wands came out to be legitimate. The guard handed them back, scowling. "Waste of time," he muttered.

"How dense are you?" Usagi exclaimed, now quite angry. "D'you think that we would just arbitrarily demand that you check them? Get it through your head! Voldemort, yes, I just said VOLDEMORT—now get over it, is back and you won't check the wands because everything _looks_ okay? The reason that I made you check them is because you need to understand that the Dark Lord is a deceptive person, and usually deceptive people deceive! They happen to be very good about it, as well. Some dolt with a few years of the Dark Arts could get by here without a hitch, so you really have it into your head that your human eyes alone are good enough to stop one of the most powerful wizards that has ever lived? Only someone as moronic as you could be so arrogant! NOW DROP AND GIVE ME FIFTY!"

"Yes, of course, ma'm!" Said the guard, who was stumbling over his words. He looked mortified, and quickly fell on his hands and counted off each one.

Usagi and Dumbledore walked off, and then Usagi, seeing the line that was beginning, called out, just get the message in, "Why aren't you manning that counter?!"

"I'm on it, ma'm!" Came the breathless guard, who came back into view with a very red face.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Dumbledore murmured quietly, "That was a bit harsh."

"He didn't get it the first time, so I had to really make sure that it sunk in," Usagi replied. "Besides, he was asking for it. The Ministry's security guards have a reputation for big egos, and little brains. It was about time for someone to chew him out."

"And you did such a good job of it, too."

"I can only hope."

They reached the lift, and Usagi pulled back the gate. The gleaming button was pressed for the bottom layer, and down they went in silence.

It took a few minutes to navigate through the bowels of the Ministry, through the corridor, and the swirling circle room with the many doors.

It was when they entered the room where the rows of prophecies used to stand that Usagi finally spoke.

"My goodness!" She breathed, running ahead of Dumbledore to look around the room. There were only a few more prophecies, and they were standing on a case that was pushed against the far wall. She spun around to face him. "What happened here? Where are all the prophecies?"

"They were destroyed," Dumbledore, replied, walking up to her calmly. "You read, I imagine, that there was a battle in the Ministry—in the Atrium. What you did not read is that it first took place in here."

Usagi growled. "Voldement getting into the Atrium was bad enough, but the Department of Mysteries? Fudge has a lot to answer to! This is one of the biggest kept secrets in the Ministry!"

"Fudge will answer for it. There is a Committee in the Wizengamot that is investigating it right now. But that is not what we are here for. I want to explain some things to you about the battle. You read up on how Voldemort was last destroyed?"

"Naturally," Usagi replied, and her eyes darkened. "I felt horrible. Harry… and Lily and James. That pair—I was so looking forward to seeing them again, to find out that they died a year after I disappeared! And Harry—I can't imagine how hard this is for him."

"Well, you knew that it might be the case… You knew about it even before I told you about the Prophecy."

"I didn't buy the Prophecy. Even prophecies can be proven wrong. There are many futures; a Seer can only predict one event in one of them. This particular part of that Prophecy came true. But there is yet another future to be seen. I don't believe that Harry has to be the one to kill Voldemort, but for him to live, yes, he must be killed. Voldemort will stop at nothing to rid himself of an enemy that poses a threat to him. And that included you, myself, and the Order—not just Harry Potter. I won't be intimidated by this Prophecy, and neither should you."

"I agree completely," Albus concurred, surprised once more at the deep wisdom that lay beneath Usagi's bubbly veneer. "This was the mistake, though. Harry is now 15—soon to be 16. I should have told him—I intended to. But watching him grow up… I wanted him to be happy. I couldn't deal out such a burden—"

"You could have, and you should have." Usagi interrupted sharply. "Though I expect that that was what you were getting to. Even the wisest wizards—you, Albus Dumbledore, forget that what makes someone happy is not what is the best for them. Happiness is illusive, it comes only in short bursts, and adversity is just a part of life and is to be regarded with respect, for it is with adversity that we even recognize happiness. To be content is the real purpose. Enjoy happiness for it is, but don't chase it. Harry, I imagine, have dealt with many burdens, and have already proven himself capable for the Prophecy. It was his right to know, he probably wanted to. If I were in his shoes, I would. Not knowing probably hurt him more than knowing would have."

"It did. I told Harry, specifically, the morning after the attack. You see, when that curse was performed, there was a link formed. Voldemort recently became aware of it around Christmas when Harry saved Arthur Weasley from his bite. I employed Severus to teach him occulmency—that failed miserably. I should have taught Harry myself, but…"

"You that that Voldemort would use Harry to spy on you?" Usagi supplied.

Dumbledore glanced at her, scrutinizing her countenance. "Yes—your perception is uncanny. I was wrong. He supplied Harry with visions of the Department of Mysteries. This room. And then took Sirius, and planted him, torturing him here."

"Sirius?" Usagi looked surprised. "I read that he had—"

"It was a lie. Sirius wasn't the secret keeper like it was originally planned. He convinced Lily and James to use Pettigrew instead."

Usagi gasped, covering her mouth. "You mean—"

"Yes. Sirius was sent to Azkaban for Pettigrew's crime."

"But he escaped—"

"Yes. Harry, and his friends Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger found him, along with their 3rd year teacher, Remus Lupin. The story was explained. Ron's pet rat, Scabbers, was Pettigrew. He was revealed. Then… I'm sorry to tell you this, but Snape interfered."

Usagi groaned for her friend. "Say no more. Unfortunately, his bitterness for James' behavior has always overcome his reason."

"Indeed, as he has always been, well, biased towards Harry. Sirius did escape, with Harry's help, but he had to go into hiding—again. He was Harry's godfather, as you know, and they grew very close. Voldemort appeared the next year—for the triwizard tournament. You know Alastor Moody, of course, he helped train you, the pair of you were—or are, good friends. I had hired him to teach DADA that year, because I suspected something was up—and I was right. Harry participated in the Triwizard Tournament that year, and Cedric Diggory and himself tied, so they took the cup together. It was a portkey, and they were transported to a graveyard, where Voldemort made his comeback via—"

"I have read all this in _the Quibbler_," Usagi interrupted him. "I'm sorry, but I feel a sense of urgency."

"Yes, well, Sirius and Harry had grown very close, and Voldemort used that information, taken from Sirius' old house elf Kreacher. Harry, of course, went to the Ministry on a rescue mission, with several friends from Hogwarts—only to find this room, and no Sirius. Voldemort has lured him to the place where his prophecy—the Prophecy—was. Harry, naturally curious, picked it up. And then all hell broke loose."

"Only the persons whom a prophecy is about can pick it up from the shelf. I see. Death Eaters battled—lead by Lucius, I presume? I may loathe the man, but he was always the most competent leader of them all."

"Yes, it was Lucius Malfoy, though Bellatrix Lestrange had a time of it."

"I bet she did. Bitch. Ugh… excuse my language, but… Argghh… Every time I think about her, I want to wring her neck."

"Luckily," Dumbledore continued, paying no mind to Usagi's grumblings, "the Order showed up—Sirius among them, of course. They took over, and it was Sirius who dueled Bellatrix. The battle had moved from this room, to the veil… Have you ever been in there?"

Usagi's face was suddenly deathly somber. "Yes," she replied, "yes, I have. That is a dangerous place to battle. Albus, what happened?"

"Sirius fell through the veil." Dumbledore said bluntly, feeling foolish. There was no way to soften the blow.

Usagi gasped, and brought her hands up to her mouth. There was a few seconds silence before she spoke. "Twenty seconds, Albus. Twenty seconds between when you told me that Sirius was innocent, and that he had just died. Twenty seconds of happiness—crushed."

"Usagi, I'm so sorry," Dumbledore began, but Usagi raised a pale hand to stop him.

"I lost Sirius when I thought he had committed that crime. I can't really mourn over him now, when I had already lost him long ago." She looked away, and a solitary tear glittered and is fell from her sharp cheekbone to the cement floor below.

"Of course you can mourn," Dumbledore said, surprised. "He was your friend. Even if you had felt like you had lost him a while ago, he is dead now. Losing someone to evil and then death is a tragic thing. You have every right—"

"No I don't," Usagi interjected, more tears leaving gleaming trails on her face. "Voldemort broke in here three days ago. If I had come—"

"Don't start," Dumbledore stopped her sharply. "You just talked about 'what-ifs' a second ago. They do nothing but bring more pain."

"Of course," Usagi replied softly, "but I can't help the way I feel. I know it's not rational. I won't pay it any mind. But I still feel that way—foolish."

"Naturally," Dumbledore softened his tone. "But whatever your feelings, don't let them get in the way of mourning."

"I won't," Usagi promised him, and then wiped the tears from her eyes. "Tell what has been happening."

And so he did. Dumbledore began where she had fallen out of the Order, to the happenings within Hogwarts prior to Voldemort's rise to power. He told her of all the things that the Order had been discussing prior to the battle within the Atrium—and of the many discussions that had followed.

"…And here we are…" Usagi trailed off, as Dumbledore finished his side of the story. "Now what?"

Albus chuckled slightly. "I was hoping to get you sworn in this evening. We have set up headquarters elsewhere. I was planning on having you stay there, so we need to arrange for you to get luggage—"

"Just a second," Usagi interrupted. "Why can't I stay in my home? I've really been looking forward to it, now that I am no longer MIA."

"Because to the public eye, you are, Usagi. Though no one would really notice you inhabiting it, I am afraid that there might be spies on the watch for you there. This ransom for your incarceration is very disturbing."

"All right, you win." Usagi sighed. "My things are in an apartment above 32nd street."

"Very well, I will get you a port key."

Usagi opened her mouth, surprised, but shut it before she said anything stupid. As if the Ministry of Magic would debate anything that Dumbledore was doing now.

"I will meet you there in a few minutes; I have a few things to pick up at Hogwarts, myself." He pulled a fountain pen out from his robes, and tapped, whispering: "_Portus_."

Usagi took it from him, the anxious feeling in her stomach not completely from the kinetic shock of being transported so swiftly. She couldn't wait much longer—she really wanted to see the rest of the Order. Especially, she wanted to greet Severus. Though he had obviously made some rather large misjudgments (as Albus had relayed), she wanted to tell him how proud she was…

!!!!!!!!

Yes, it does end here. But soon… soon (as relative to me) the next chapter will be up! I am so eager for Usagi to meet dear Sevvie as well. Many thanks to the reviewers, and a note to you all, feedback really does make a difference. And yes, Harry will make an appearance—in fact, you will be seeing him quite a bit, for reasons not yet divulged. I'm keeping your curiousity attenas up. Ja!


	5. Chapter 4

Okay, here it is. I know, I know, kill me now. Took forever, but it is here. Have no clue when the next will be out. Maybe next century. This is pre-HBP, by the way. Snape is considered loyal. Some definitions:

effluvium-- a vapor, espeically or rot of decay

nidor-- the smell of burning flesh

I know, pleasant, huh?

Crescendo

* * *

The caustic effluvium of nidor wafted over the formidable walls of Azkaban in blue-gray puffs. Cold drizzle dampened the billowing cloak, as the slits in the skin inhaled the fumes.

"A saccharine odor, is it not?" Spoke the mellifluous voice, sounding from beneath the hood of the covering. "From your injustice, you have received entertainment."

The Death Eater known as Lucius Malfoy was the only one out of the group to speak. "What entertainment it was," he murmured, twirling his new wand, in awe of his timely liberation. "My Lord," he added quickly, giving a suave, low bow. His platinum blond hair was stringy from the filthy cell, and the three days without bathing. It swept through the charred corpse of a Ministry Corrections Officer. "I thank you, and am most grateful."

Voldemort smirked in response, and turned his gaze upon the tossing sea, where the vicious, cold, silver waves were churning themselves into great arcs of foam. With deafening roars, and awe-inspiring vehemence, they rammed themselves into the sharp rocks below. _Not unlike the force I used to seize this fortress,_ he thought to himself idly.

The Dark Lord made a striking image, in that instant, the overcast sky with its gigantic cloud formations as his background, erect, proud, his wand held loosely at his side, the stone wall perched on top of the rocks, with all the fury of the ocean spilling upon them below him. The great swirls and billows of his black cloak gave him a mighty silhouette, the remains of his adversaries scattered about him. "Gentlemen," his mesmerizing voice tolled clearly, "And lady," he added, meaning Bellatrix Lestrange, "remember this feeling of victory, for surely you will know it far more intimately in the near future. Your Lord will surely bring you conquest!"

"Give thanks to our Lord, for he has delivered us from captivity!" Called a freed Death Eater, in an awful fervor.

"Thanks be to the Dark Lord, for he has delivered us!" They cried collectively. "Thanks to the Dark Lord!"

The shrieks of the sea accented their cries, and so the volume rose, as their gratitude echoed stridently throughout the walls of Azkaban prison. On the ledge overlooking the storming ocean, they swelled with terrible nosism.

Albus Dumbledore sighed as he apparated in front of the gates of the towering spires of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Home sweet home. He spent most of his time here, even during the summer holidays. He even joked to Minerva sometimes that he forgot his real address, which was a charming (neglected) cottage in Bristol.

Taking out his wand, he murmured the password, and the ornate, iron gates swung open tentatively. He strolled through them and climbed a few steps to the courtyard, passing under the stone roof and to the front door, which opened to his incantation, a secret smuggled from headmaster to headmaster.

He took some shortcuts through the tapestries up to his office, which now had the password of "strawberry torte." Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he wasn't the least bit surprised to hear shuffling. He knew that Severus would be visiting his office some time that afternoon. Just yesterday, he had asked about getting some rather complicated books from Dumbledore's study, and Albus had agreed, knowing that he had given the Potions Master some difficult assignments lately. Being the brewer for the Order was no slight task—it was very involved and sometimes he felt guilty for pressing Snape to his limits, but he knew that the man could handle it. He had been through harder tests before.

"Good afternoon, Severus," Dumbledore said loudly, amicably.

"Headmaster?" The reply, or question, was barely audible. Professor Snape extended his head through the open study door, its stained walnut reflecting the noon sunlight.

"Good afternoon," Albus repeated, and gave him a gentle smile.

"I did not expect you back at Hogwarts until later."

"My plans have changed," Dumbledore replied, his intonation hinting that the Potions Master's plans should also have been amended. He decided to clarify verbally. "Were you notified that there will be an Order meeting in an hour?"

"Yes." Snape said, looking surly. "Is there an emergency of some sort?" His black eyes glittered nervously. Dumbledore knew that he didn't like not being in the know. Well, he could wait sixty minutes or so.

"The matters involving the Order will be discussed within the Order meeting," Dumbledore told him, choosing his words carefully.

Snape nodded, looking sourer, because he knew that this would be the answer that he would receive. Gripping the back of a plush, velvet winged-back chair near the desk, he cleared his throat and attempted to say casually, "So… Why are you back at Hogwarts?"

"I need to pick up a file," was the reply. Albus walked quickly around his large, oak desk, into the cutout are where his chair was currently situated. Pulling it out, and sinking into its welcoming embrace, he muttered another charm (confound it, could he do anything without his wand in hand?), and the bottom-most drawer sprung open with a deep-throated click.

"A file," repeated Severus, watching Dumbledore's movements with a calculating curiosity. He looked like he was positively itching to say 'what file', and that it was taking everything in his power, like a child trying to restrain his dog from chasing a cat, to hold back from probing more deeply into the Headmaster's business.

Which was rather pitiful, Albus acknowledged mentally, while his fingers, familiar with that drawer, raided its contents in rapid, flitting movements (Dumbledore had always regretted his inability to make fondue, but by God, he could navigate a file system!). If Severus had nothing better to do than to pry into Dumbledore's affairs, he must have very little life at all.

Dumbledore had always felt guilty about Snape's mental and emotional disposition. Though the scars that he had accumulated with his time with Voldemort were not the Headmaster's responsibility, he felt that he had some small connection to the naive, distraught disposition that had caused Severus to make the choice to join Voldemort. He wished that he had taken more notice of Sirius' and James' pestering of the unpopular crowd at Hogwarts, realizing that, as a staff member, he had failed in his duty to make everyone at Hogwarts feel accepted, and had turned a blind eye to the bullying of James and his crowd. He had always felt grateful that Harry had inherited his mother's sense of integrity instead of his father's insecurity that required him to build his own ego.

When James Potter was under his watch, he had always considered him in a "boys will be boys" setting, and thought, after he had saved Severus from Remus's transformation, that the situation between the group would diffuse, but to no avail. He figured it was something that everyone went through, and that the way that it was… something that he shouldn't interfere with.

It was Usagi who had persuaded him otherwise. One night, into her third year of Auror training, he had taken her out to dinner after she had passed the notoriously grueling Physical Endurance and Strength in Aggressive Situations exam. He had decided to treat her to a congratulatory dinner, a gesture that reflected their intimate friendship. They had always been close, even as Headmaster and student. Dumbledore had, after all, trained her, and Usagi had been under his constant tutelage ever since the Hogwarts staff had become aware of her extraordinary abilities. The bond was further sealed by the fact that they were so much alike—their blue eyes both shown with whimsical fancies and kindness, yet belied wisdom and power, they were both a bit absent-minded, both had extraordinary powers, and both were natural leaders. Within the Hogwarts community, Usagi had even become to known as "the Headmaster's little virtuoso" and "Dumbledore's protégé". Dumbledore at times worried over their closeness, wondering if the relationship was appropriate for that of a pupil and her professor, but realized that a professor was a mentor to a student, and that as Usagi grew, that mentorship waned in the presence of friendship, something that he deemed appropriate, and even encouraged his staff to participate in.

There was, perhaps, even a bit of a fatherly relationship involved too. Albus knew all too dearly that he wanted to be a father, but the circumstances of his life had never allowed for it. Though he held very discreet feelings for Minerva, he was a bachelor, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. His urge for a child to parent was partially satisfied by Usagi, who, for her younger years, had taken a slightly fatherly image to him as well, after Albus had indirectly disposed of her natural father—one of the best decisions he had ever made. His fist still clenched at the thought of Kenji Tsukino, who was rotting away in a prison somewhere in the Ukraine, which matched his sociopathical, cold visage.

Even for all of their closeness, while Usagi enrolled in Hogwarts, she was unable to convince him of the extent of emotional damage that James Potter was inflicting on Severus Snape and few other select students. While she successfully wielded the power of her Amazing Blue Eyes to induce him to write numerous detentions (and to get out of two or three herself; even Filch found it impossible to punish her when she raised her large, azure orbs, and pulled her lower lip down just slightly), her testimonies were not enough to prompt him to taken any more action than that.

After a filling meal of caramelized onions and tenderloin steak that night, they began to reminisce over Hogwarts memories, and the topic of Severus Snape came up. By then, he was a known close ally of Voldemort's.

"How strange, and how hard it must be for you, Usagi," Albus had said. "To have one of your best friends betray you and join forces with the Dark Lord."

Something mysterious, almost angry had flashed in her eyes at his words. Looking back, he realized how arrogant they must have sounded at the time.

"It's definitely not easy," she finally said slowly, "I think about him every day and hope that he's alright—and that he'll find a way out—a reason out. But no, not strange. I expected it for several years. And I understand completely why he did."

"That makes you more well-informed than me," Dumbledore replied, feeling slightly put out at her rebutting tone. "I don't think I shall ever understand why anyone would join forces with a cold-blooded murderer, instigate mass racial purging, and doing it for a place in a 'new' society and a fortune."

Usagi shook her head slightly as the waiter strolled suavely up to their table, and held out a wine bottle wrapped in a napkin for her to scrutinize the label of the bottle she had ordered for them. She nodded briskly; he uncorked it, and filled the tulip-shaped crystal glasses with the glimmering garnet liquid. She raised the opening, sniffed and smiled at the waiter. "This has an exquisite nose," she complimented, and the waiter smiled back, pleased with the patron's approval. Dumbledore took a small sniff, and had nodded as well. "Good choice."

Usagi had waited until the waiter was out of sight, and then leaned forward slightly. "Severus's reason for pledging allegiance to Voldemort was not the same as someone like Lucius Malfoy. None of those factors played a role in his decision. His father, the bastard, was a muggle, and you know the way he treated Severus."

Unlike with Usagi's father, Severus's parental problem was unable to be solved. Though Albus had not interfered much within the problems between Snape and his Gryffindor classmates, activities that he considered hurtful but benign, he had made several strident efforts at removing Severus from his father's care, attempts that had ended up fruitless.

"You had your own problems within your family," Dumbledore reminded her sharply, "and yet you are fighting against—" he lowered his voice "Voldemort, not for him."

"That is true," Usagi had conceded. "But I was fortunate to have Papa disappear after my second summer between Hogwarts terms. I was lucky enough to have approval and love. After his father beating him and denying him affection, having Voldemort come to him, offer him approval, and a fatherly affection… He was one of the few people to remember Severus, compliment him, take an interest in him."

"_You_ showed him more love, approval, and affection before Voldemort ever spoke to him!" Albus shot back, feeling that she was making excuses for Severus's decisions.

"The love, approval, and affection of a friend," Usagi reminded him softly. "Not that of a father, or a mother. But the biggest factor in his decision was the behavior of Sirius and James. He thought, if humiliation and torment were going to be the face of the resistance against Voldemort, than a path for Voldemort would be more humane. He was conditioned since his childhood to think of muggles and those who were muggle born as less than human, and since many muggles and muggle-born treated him horribly, with the exception of Lily, it only served to amplify and prove his belief. Voldemort treated him like a human being—James and Sirius, people who believed that muggles and muggle-born were equal to pure-blooded wizards, treated him like he was less than them—for no other reason than that he did not fit into the clique-ish standards. Why would he join a resistance that would seem to preach the things he hates? Voldemort, as you know, is the true deliverer of hate, mortification, and cruelty. Sirius, James, and even Remus have finally grown up and have come back to earth—they are men of honor, integrity, and bravery—perhaps most importantly—humility as well. That doesn't rectify the fact that they behaved horribly—and they damaged someone's _soul_ with their taunts." Usagi twirled the stem of the glass in her hand idly. "I wonder how many more they put off, by giving our mission a cruel and arrogant façade."

_I wonder how many more they put off, by giving our mission a cruel and arrogant façade. _Her words echoed in his head. He suddenly remembered all the times she had come storming into his office for a lesson, demanding that something be done to discipline James Potter and his fan club. He remembered all the times he had done nothing, told himself it was nothing. And his decisions had directly affected the flight of someone to Voldemort. Usagi was right all along. And Albus couldn't help but feel slightly sick—for he was partially responsible.

The memories of that night—and the terrible realization that it had brought—still brought a pang to his heart. After Usagi's supposed death, and the appearance of a distressed and dispirited Severus Snape, covered in mud and Usagi's blood, weeping brokenly in his pristine Hogwarts office, he had promised himself that he would do something to rectify his behavior. He would do his best, this time, for Severus Snape, and he would be the best friend that he could for him.

Unfortunately, Usagi's disappearance had changed him for the worst. It was an experience that Dumbledore hoped he'd never have to comprehend. To grow up, and see the grains of your life slip away into the void ceaselessly—maturing to the sights of your mother abused and beaten—finally until death—to leave and go to school and be tormented ceaselessly, and then promised all the love and truth in the world by a casual despotic whose only love was with his reflection—to be lead into murder, serenaded by decay, destruction, and stagnant dirges of war and evil—then come out of a gilded stupor and see grim and unforgiving reality for what it was—to seek a way out, see the smallest sliver of hope that was not there for years—then, to the end—to seeing the most important person—the one who was always supportive, always there—supposedly die—for your transgressions. It was unthinkable. Astounding. That kind of experience gave Severus a bit of vertigo—who was spiting him? Was it hell or heaven on Earth that he was living? Satan or God that hated him so? Who avenged what in his nightmarish existence? Was it Beelzebub or Lucifer or the powerful seraphims of heaven? Who knew? Certainly not Severus. For days after Usagi's disappearance, he was distraught, running about the forests of Scotland crying her name. This worried Albus, but other than with verbal dissuasion he didn't stop it. What could he do? What could he say? How do you approach a man who has lost everything—perhaps his own sanity? Dumbledore admitted to himself that Severus Snape could be very valuable to the order—and in all honesty, he thought that Snape owed his service to Usagi—or her memory, at that time. But the man was in pain. How could Dumbledore deny him his half-crazed, futile, infinitesimal hope that Usagi might still be out there somewhere?

He made his decision the night the Daily Prophet published Usagi's obituary—even though she was considered MIA. He was in Dumbledore's office—Albus had just called him up to tell him that Usagi's MIA debacle had just been released by the Ministry's PR person—in a list of names of KIA and MIA that were deemed suitable for release. Severus had worked himself up into an exhausted half-fury. He had just returned from a damp, fruitless search.

"A list!" Dumbledore remembered all too clearly his strident exclamation; the rivulets of raindrops that ran like streams down the curves of his sunken cheeks, and hit the plum carpet soundlessly, darkening the fibers. "A list!" His arms were raised in emphasis, and the wet black fabric clung to his arms, revealing their narrowness. "Crammed in with other people! Nothing done! No statements of remorse! Nothing! Blank! Cold! A LIST! Usagi…" He suddenly choked on his words, and spun away from Dumbledore to hide his emotions, something that would soon become habit. His worrying fingers found his dripping raven hair, and scrambled through it as if he'd a way to control his feelings by yanking on his scalp. "She sacrificed so much. She's worth more than the half-second it takes to say her name. She's not like others… So why should she be boxed in with them?" Severus spun around to face him again, the wildness in his melanic eyes matching the trembling and groaning storm clouds that flooded Dumbledore's window with grey. Dumbledore realized that this was the first time the man had been able to string together coherent and complete sentences. He raved on for a while, and Dumbledore got the impression that if the Ministry had Usagi's name painted in the sky and required everyone to wear mourning finery that he wouldn't be satisfied.

"Usagi was nothing if not human," Dumbledore remembered telling him. "She was your friend, not your saviour. It would not honour her to put her up on a pedestal."

Severus nodded, surprising Dumbledore, who expected him to protest. "But she deserves more, even so…"

Dumbledore had sighed, and folded his arms behind his head, reclining in his leather seat, which creaked with the pressure. "Yes… But this is war. And who really ever gets what they deserve, even in death?" Dumbledore exhaled heavily, and stared somberly at the shifting grey masses of storm clouds. "God help us all…"

Snape ignored the last comment, not sure if he believed in God anymore—or if he ever had. He sat down heavily in the velvet chair facing Dumbledore, and rubbed his tired face, feeling the prickly stubble of his unshaved face, and watched a drop fall from one of his growing whiskers. '…_Even in death_' Dumbledore had said. So the old man really thought Usagi was dead. Just like everyone else. And even though he never thought he'd admit it to himself, so did he. As soon as he saw Dumbledore's surprised face when Usagi had teleported him to the office, he felt a sinking in his heart. He was sure that he'd never see her again—alive—or maybe ever. If anything, he was too sure of it. And he didn't even want to think of what the Death Eaters had done with her corpse. It was orders for them to mutilate the corpses of the fallen dead—that or conduct experiments. If she had been taken alive…

_Oh God, Severus, don't fucking think_…

Dumbledore was speaking. Severus slowly tuned in.

"…But you might be placated somewhat by the evening edition of the Daily Prophet." Dumbledore slid the newspaper towards him. Severus would never forget the cover. The normal war stories where there, but in the center there was a photograph of Usagi, with the headline and short obituary simply titled: _Missing Her_. It was the photograph and this simple caption that captured Severus's attention. Usagi was kneeling, in her Auror uniform, which was tattered. Her face was smudged with soot and dirt. A babbling brook of tears spilled down her cheeks, yet she was smiling tenderly down at what she held in her arms, the limp corpse of a young child, probably three years old, whose features were bloodied and burnt. Severus's fist clenched in anger, crumpling the newsprint with a furious crackling. Voldemort's work. His eyes scanned the other headlines—all touted the atrocities that had recently been committed—atrocities that he had been blind or ambivilus towards.

"This wasn't what I signed on for," he had told Dumbledore. Albus nodded.

"I know," he said softly.

"Usagi didn't get what she deserved from me," Severus said brokenly. "My past, everything…!" He felt like throwing something. "I can't do anything! I can't take it back! I am what I hate the most… the end!" Snape stood, despising the world.

"No, not the end," Dumbledore replied quietly, yet firmly. "That is far too easy a declaration."

Severus's reply was forked and acidic. "Self-loathing is easy! I'm sorry I'm so weak as to admit guilt!"

"But you are not admitting guilt—you are admitting failure."

"Same bloody fucking thing," Severus bit back caustically.

"You are forgetting your English lessons," Dumbledore retorted sharply, "if they are the same thing there would not be two words, they are actually quite different. You feel guilty, good, you ought to. You admit fault for the decisions and choices you have made, yes?"

"I thought I made that clear."

"Being at fault, and failing are different. You have sinned, that much is clear. But you haven't failed." The headmaster narrowed his china-blue eyes. "Yet."

Severus didn't know how to reply. Of course he failed.

"You're not dead yet. You still breathe, and feel, and think."

Severus sank back down into the chair. "That doesn't make me worth anything…"

"Quite the contrary," Dumbledore replied, but Severus didn't respond. He softened his tone. "If it helps at all, you must know that no one, not even Usagi or myself, can avoid being contaminated by the world's evils. It's the actions—and attitudes we take towards them that define who are and whom we will be. You cannot change your past, but you must take responsibility for your future. You shape it—not your late father, or Voldemort, or Usagi, or myself… you. You can change your life. You can still succeed. You always have a choice."

But Snape was already shaking his head. "Impossible…" He murmured, staring far into himself.

"Then you accept failure, and not responsibility and fault, and you blaspheme Usagi by once again rejecting everything she stood and fought for! She believed in doing the right thing even when doing it meant death and worse—and though your previous master may not have believed it, there are far worse things than death—losing your integrity, for example. All the power in the world will not conquer death anymore than it will conquer life, for death is not an end to life but merely a stage of it. Fighting death is the same as fighting life, and Voldemort is essentially weak because he lives in fear of death and love, life and freedom. Every day that passed while you were with him on his trek to power, how strong did you feel when you killed men? You told yourself that you were all princes of men, but how low you are! You were told that destroying life and freedom made you powerful, but all killing did was remind you of your weakness. Isn't that why you're here now? Because you realized this weakness? Isn't that why you are denying the possibility of doing the right thing? Because of weakness. How much easier is for you to deny, to pretend that there is nothing you can do at all, than to accept the fact that you are still worth something and that you can still fight this? You see, Voldemort is essentially weak because it's so much easier for him to grasp power and deny truth than it is for him to face what is real and true and right. So look at your reflection, damn you, look yourself in the eye and realize that Usagi was right about believing in you because you are _stronger_ than Voldemort and the rest of them. Because you looked at them and saw evil for what it was and you are abhorred, and because you looked at them and saw that their evil was weakness, and you left! You could not have done that if there were not some form of goodness in you, now you need to find it! Look! See! Either you're for Voldemort or against him; he has made that clear enough. You still have the ability to do something—choosing not to stop evil is helping it along. So where are you going?"

For the first time in his life, Severus Snape saw things clearly. It felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room from Dumbledore's words, and at one end, he saw Voldemort and his Death Eaters, radiated decay, reveling blindly… He'd been there before. He had walked that road, and it was a lonely path. It promised so many things, and the path was so smooth it was like walking on butter. But you were walking on yourself, snapping everything about yourself like twigs under your feet. And you just kept walking along, humming your own requiem, until eventually you stomped yourself to death. At the other end… There were no cherubs and hosts of angels, and that road too was lonely at times… But… You were standing for yourself… and for everyone else, too. And then he knew. That was the path he was going to take. Because it was right, because it was Usagi's path… And because it was strong.

He closed his eyes and let the finality of his choice wash over his psyche, and it was if a quiet flame had been lit within him.

Severus opened his lids and leveled his gaze at Dumbledore. "What do you want me to do?" He said simply.

"Go back to the Death Eaters, as our spy. Continue to advance within his circle. We'll contact you discreetly, arrange rendezvous."

The request was stated simply in three short sentences, but it could have not been more complex to Severus. His face dawned an expression of half-horror and half-disgust, betraying his thoughts. Surely Dumbledore couldn't expect him to return to that monster?

Dumbledore glanced down at the Daily Prophet, and it's picture of Usagi. Severus glanced down too, and felt a string of guilt plucked within him. Usagi had picked up after Voldemort's abominations every day as an Auror. Regardless of Voldemort's monstrosity, or perhaps because of it, she had fought everyday. He could do the same.

"All right. I'll do it."

Dumbledore stood. "We'll contact you by the end of the week. Be careful." He shook Severus's hand. "Oh, and Severus? Thank you."

Snape stared at him, a bit shocked for a moment, and said the Dumbledore, for the first and last time: "No, thank you."

And then he was gone.

"Headmaster?"

Dumbledore thought that it was odd that even though Snape had left, his disembodied voice would be calling him.

"Headmaster?"

Suddenly Dumbledore was pulled back from his memories and back into real life, 16 years later. An older, more lined Severus Snape stared back at him.

"My apologies!" Dumbledore said quickly, adopting his infamous twinkle and small grin. "I was having a particularly delectable thought about a cherry lollipop."

Snape rolled his eyes, and Dumbledore rose from his seat, and handed him a piece of paper. "Send mail to this address if it comes from the Ministry."

Severus nodded, pocketing the piece of paper. Dumbledore patted him firmly on the back and strolled out of the study, humming.

The dark-haired professor just shook his head and went back to his work, pulling a heavy tome from the top shelf, and wondering why Dumbledore was just so _strange_.

The bright sunlight of noon filtered through the vertical blinds, lighting up the cramped studio apartment, and filling it with uncomfortably warm, humid air. It caressed the pristinely made futon on the groddy linoleum floor, with its bright white, starched sheets, and hospital corners; habits engraved from years of Auror discipline training. One could bounce a galleon off of those sheets and the subsequent black goose down comforter, all pulled taunt over the stiff mattress. To the back of the room was a cluster of decrepit muggle kitchen appliances and an old, collapsible table. The only thing not outdated and cheap was the computer set up in the far corner, and her trunk full of clothing, equipment, and other miscellaneous artifacts.

Usagi gave a soft sigh as she paused for a minute to take it all in. For the past year, this had been her habitat. She could have afforded much better, but her fortune was deep underground London with a dank vault belonging to Gringotts, and she didn't want to arouse suspicions or even idle curiosity by going in and making a currency transaction. She had a small, muggle account, with a large amount of funds, but she had to be thrifty. So, thus the apartment and sparse furnishings. The rest of the money funded other things necessary for espionage, which included numerous wigs, clothes, airplane tickets, the computer and a digital camera, and other tools of the trade.

She wasn't going to miss it that was for sure. Usagi frowned. It was a lonely place, and the tap water was positively foul.

Having enough of the memories, Usagi picked up the trunk, and dragged it into the middle of the room, kicking the futon aside. The floorboards under the linoleum protested, and Usagi rolled her eyes in response. No, she certainly wasn't going to miss it one little bit. Reaching inside her white robes, she pulled out a long, thin silver chain, which held many odd keys, all of whose jangles gave off a cacophony. She carefully selected one, and inserted it into the corroded silver lock. With a swift movement, there was a satisfying click, and Usagi opened the second level of the trunk. She quickly began to strip the futon, and dumped the large tangle of bed coverings into it, throwing one leg over the side to stomp the mass down. She had never been one for neatness. It only applied when she had made her bed. Having sergeants yell at her on a daily basis about the neatness and timeliness of her linen arranging had made it an unbreakable habit.

Moving on, Usagi reached over and snatched up the notebook computer, though by the computer industry's standards, it was hardly a notebook in terms of bulk and weight. The GPS and satellite wireless Internet capabilities had added quite a bit of weight, but Usagi didn't mind. It was state-of-the-art, if not easy to carry. Checking to make sure that the encryption was still running (as if it wouldn't be, Usagi scolded herself), she shut it down, and threw it into the trunk, along with various books littering the floor. Using a computer was hardly a magical fad, nor was using firearms, but Usagi had found that it worked when she needed to keep her distance from the magical intelligence networks of the wizarding world. And guns were just plain useful—wizards and witches expected wands but not firearms, and it didn't take any energy to pull a trigger, while there was at least a nanosecond preparation to cast an incantation. She slipped in a few other scattered objects, such as her alarm clock, which had, amazingly, survived several collisions with the wall for interrupting her sleep. Remembering the food in the cabinets, she abandoned the mess, and threw open the plywood doors, gathering various boxes into her arms.

It was the noise that first alerted her of Dumbledore's presence. He had apparated on her futon, and the lack of ground support had made him stumble.

"Odd place for a futon," he merely commented dryly, once on his feet. Usagi glanced back at it. She had kicked it up against the wall, where the corner was hovering just under the doorknob. She shrugged, and tossed him a box. "Please throw that in," she instructed, and indicated the open trunk.

"Do you really need to take this?" He inquired, glancing down at it through his spectacles.

"It's Pocky," Usagi replied testily, as if the fact would justify a death sacrifice. "A muggle Japanese candy-snack sort of thing," she added, seeing his blank look.

Said look was replaced by a smile. "Candy?"

"You can have _one_," Usagi told him. "_One._" She went back to collecting items, and when had her arms full, ready to toss him some more, turned around to catch the Hogwarts headmaster red-handed, with three strawberry Pocky sticks in his fist.

"I said one!" Usagi exclaimed, rushing forward, and snatching the box from his hand, scowling.

"I gave you that lemon drop," was his petulant reply.

Usagi hid a smirk. "It had Veritaserum in it, so that doesn't count." _Though it wore off after a minute or so…_

"'It's Pocky,'" Dumbledore mocked her tone of voice.

Usagi couldn't hide her amusement any longer. "You learn quickly," she giggled.

Dumbledore just beamed back and snacked on his prize.

"Hey, pick up some books while you're there, and eating MY food," Usagi commanded, and let the boxes she was holding drop into her luggage before returning to the pantry for the last time.

"Mmmay!" Was Dumbledore's reply, and he bent down and picked up two items, a book and a periodical. Squinting through his glasses, he read the title on the book: The Anarchists' Cookbook, which he knew to be a book on how to make bombs, and the January issue of "Cat World", complete with a heart-rending image of a fuzzy, gray kitten on the cover.

Swallowing his food, he held the pair up for comparison. "Am I missing something here?" He asked Usagi.

Brushing her bangs out of her face, Usagi chucked a packet of Roman Noodles at him. "Shut up!" She growled playfully, and deposited the rest of her nonperishables into the trunk, before putting the rest of the books into it, and locking it shut.

"Took you long enough," the Headmaster chuckled lightly.

Usagi pursed her lips. "Hey! I've lived here for a year, so what if it took me twenty minutes or so?"

"I thought that you were in a hurry," he teased.

"You eat MY food, and you DARE to MOCK ME!" Usagi cried out in imitated outrage.

Dumbledore shook his head, from amusement or disbelief it was unclear. "You and your food!"

"You and your candy!" Usagi countered.

Albus paused as if to think of a retort, and then found one. "You and your food!" He repeated.

The pair stared at each other for a second or so, and then burst out into full-blown raspberries, complete with one eye closed, and a finger perched on the cheek. White spittle was seen, the sunlight highlighting it as it flew in the air.

This charade continued for half a minute or so, before neither of them could take it anymore, and burst into gales of laughter. Tears streamed down Usagi's cheeks, and she collapsed onto her mistreated futon, clutching her stomach.

"Oh, I missed that so much!" She gasped when she had the breath. "We haven't done that in years! It's one of things that I missed most."

"I think I missed our audiences just as much," Dumbledore smiled.

This sent Usagi into another fit of giggles. "Oh, Professor McGonagall's face was my favorite! Remember when that was part of our morning routine? I'd come up to the staff table, say good morning and other chitchat, and then we'd just bust out and do that! It was priceless! I can still remember what she'd say every time!" Here Usagi stood up and deadpanned a likeness. "'Usagi Tsukino, how dare you make such a face at the headmaster? You ought to be—Albus! Not you too? Stop it, both of you, it'll get stuck that way!'"

Dumbledore smiled at her impression. "After your year graduated, I got the distinct impression that she missed those daily exchanges. As did I,"

"Stop it!" Usagi said, stricken. "We're acting…" she made a retching noise, "nostalgic!"

Dumbledore laughed. "You're showing your age, Usagi. The other members of the Order would be more than happy to indulge with you." He winked at her.

"This whole day has been a tearjerker," Usagi sighed, but smiling slightly nonetheless. Her blue eyes glittered with a bittersweet joy; at finally meeting her loved ones again, only to realize that some of them had passed away.

She was opening her mouth to ask about how Dumbledore wanted to get out of the apartment—she wasn't in the mood to open a door she hadn't touched in year, when there was a quick rapping at the window—the way she went in and out.

Usagi hit the deck, and quickly pushed her back up against the wall that the window was situated in, whipping out her Berretta 9mm and releasing the safety with an alarming click. She then aimed her sights at the pane of glass, of which a charcoal gray owl was tapping its beak on.

"Get down!" She hissed at Dumbledore, who was in the middle of the room, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Paranoid much?" He chuckled slightly.

"This is no laughing matter!" She whispered fiercely at him, her eyes darting back and forth between the window and the Headmaster. "No owl, or other wizard besides you knows this address, thus no owl would come here unless I've been compromised! Owls are often used as sniper tools, as soon as you approach that window, someone just might take you out!"

"Usagi," Albus explained, taken aback by her earnestness, "I told your good friend Severus Snape that I would be here if he needed to contact me for an emergency from the Ministry, so I really _must_ get that owl." He took a step towards the window, and the flapping owl, when Usagi interfered.

"_Carpo!_" She commanded, pulling out her wand with her left hand while still holding and sighting the pistol with her right.

Dumbledore felt the uncomfortable pull of magic as he was seized by the spell and pulled roughly against the wall.

"Don't even think about touching that owl!" Usagi snapped at him. "Did you look to see whether it had the pin?"

"Pin?"

"All Ministry owls have a pin clipped to their wings, with the seal of the ministry." She quickly stuck out her head to get a glimpse at the now annoyed owl, which was increasing the frequency of its taps. "It has it." She sounded almost disappointed.

Dumbledore sighed, exasperated. "You're just as bad as Alastor these days, Usagi." He started to rise. "May I now--?"

"No!" Usagi snapped, feeling slightly foolish. She put away the gun. "I'll do it." She felt a red flush rise to her cheeks. She did feel slightly paranoid, but then again, with her kind of work, it was a staple for living from day to day. Unlatching the window, she let the owl in, which squawked in irritation at the delay, and let the letter in its beak flutter haphazardly to the floor. With another indignant shriek, it flapped its wings and flew swiftly out.

Dumbledore picked up the letter, which was addressed to him in very untidy, tilted handwriting. The veering, uneven lettering that spelled out "Headmaster's Office, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland" was neatly crossed out, and in Severus Snape's orderly, tiny penmanship was written Usagi's address.

"His handwriting!" Usagi gasped slightly, and hugged the sealed parchment to her chest as one would a sacred jewel. "I've missed even that."

Trying not to roll his eyes, Albus pried the now-crinkled parchment from her roaming, adoring fingers. Shoving his knotted finger underneath the flap of parchment, he broke the Ministry seal, and hurriedly unfolded the note, scanning it quickly while an atmosphere of foreboding grew almost instantaneously. Usagi had moved past the brief joy of seeing something familiar and now realized that any letter sent to such an out of the way place had be urgent—and that urgency spoke of something dreadful.

Without a word, his expression guarded, Dumbledore passed it to Usagi, who snatched it from him, with the same vigor that she had used when first seizing it from the owl. The critical note barely held a few lines, and the spots of ink and hurried penmanship showed the great haste in which the writer had scribbled out his words.

_Dumbledore,_

_Azkaban has been compromised. Lord Thingy takes responsibility. Full casualties reported. Emergency Wizengamot meeting behind closed doors. Your presence is requested._

_Time is of the essence._

_Godspeed,_

_Cornelius Fudge, MOM_

Usagi folded the parchment and handed back to Dumbledore mechanically, who put it into a pocket. Her mind was focused on more imperative matters than the return of the letter; it raced instead with the swiftness and clarity that only came with an emergency. The train station of thought was running on urgent business—the steam that billowed from the engines of her synapses produced a locomotive of thought that dashed forward with the forceful momentum of adrenaline and logic.

"Voldemort is mobilizing," she snapped quickly, her tone rigid. The locomotive of thought tumbled out of her mouth, metamorphosing into the locomotive of words. "He doesn't want to hide anymore. He wants to move first; he doesn't want to wait for the Ministry to get their act together from those three days ago. The world knows he is back; he needs to strike quickly to ensure that he can get the assets he needs. Things are picking up. Attacks will start to happen, now. It's his typical pattern." She paced for a minute, tapping her index finger lightly on her lip. It was the idiosyncrasy that signaled that she was sucked as deep into her thoughts as a flailing animal was taken into quicksand. Only the blinding rays of the noon sun that filtered into the room and her rapid movements back and forth across the floor broke the thick atmosphere. Yet, even the sun's strong light didn't faze the dimness of the mood that now permeated the chamber.

Usagi abruptly stopped pacing, and did an about-face, like the recruit she was years ago. Those years did nothing to warp the training ground in her from the beginning. Despite her previous clumsiness, lessons on the piano and growing into her feet turned her into the graceful woman she was today. It appeared, to Dumbledore, that nothing about her, whether the way she walked, or her face, had changed since he had last seen her that fateful day sixteen years ago. Nothing about her had aged. This, perhaps, added to the reason that her cerulean eyes were like spears that poked into his brain. Their uncanny, vivid color and clarity unsettled him a bit, as she probed him unceasingly, driving her point home with the skill of an archer. "Don't let Cornelius send in forces," she said. "No kind of human force whatsoever."

Dumbledore looked slightly shocked. "Why in world would we do anything otherwise?"

Usagi shook her head slightly, and reflected back Dumbledore's look of slight impatience. Her eyes never left his, however. "Because, we have our military forces deployed in strategic locations already-- locations that we know that Voldemort might try to get to. Azkaban is a deeply rooted, very intricate prison. It would take days to lay siege to-- and for what? To take away our forces from areas that need our attention and have sixty percent plus casualties? We wouldn't get Voldemort, that's for sure. Not if it would take that long to lay siege to the place. That's what he probably wants, anyhow. If we're distracted, he could get what he wants in the places that we've just moved our forces from. Azkaban is not a very strategic location. If he wants it as his fortress, then so be it. Better leave him there than have disaster, say, in the Middle East, where his allies have already set up underground."

Dumbledore nodded, now comprehending and accepting her point-of-view, and wishing he had thought of those issues himself. "I understand, and agree. I'm sure Hongershure will as well."

"Yes," Usagi replied, slightly relieved at his agreement. "And get the Wizengamot to put a really nasty enchantment in the warhead. Or something. And for the love of God, keep Cornelius away from the booze!" She didn't bother to hide the scandalized look on her face. "Imagine if anyone else was caught drinking on the job."

Dumbledore's eyebrows came together to form a questioning glance. "If you have so much to say about these matters, why aren't you coming with me? I'd love for the Order to come together, and we will, but this does rearrange our plans."

Usagi met his gaze, and prepared to stare him down again. "Precisely. That's why I'm not coming." She hesitated. "Tell me where the Dursleys live."

"The Dursleys? What would--" Dumbledore suddenly grasped her meaning. "You want to pick up Harry and bring him to headquarters, is that right? Why? Usagi, he's safer with them, because of the blood charm between Lily and--"

"Or maybe he isn't so safe, Professor Dumbledore, even with that. That charm keeps him safe physically, yes, but is he safe mentally? You told me about his failed attempt to learn Occlumency, did you not? With everyone distracted, wouldn't this be the perfect time for Voldemort? Hadn't you mentioned an incident in which he had seen a vision of Voldemort's in that very place?"

"I had hoped that he would have learned his lesson," Dumbledore commented, cocking his head slightly. He tilted it away from the searing rays of sun that hit his face with the intensity of the hour, making his skin seem translucent. "Sirius's death, one would hope, would be enough to deter him from believing Voldemort on anything, though I understand your point that the Dark Lord can, indeed, reach him there."

"Maybe Harry wouldn't go on any rescue missions, but Voldemort is definitely still interested in the prophecy. He knows now that he can gain something useful from Harry's mind-- a good deal many things, including that prophecy. He doesn't know that Harry knows now, but a little bit of searching-- and he could pull up some serious stuff. And, I assume, if _you_ learned _your_ lesson, you will keep him more updated on matters involving Voldemort, since it affects his life so much?"

Dumbledore nodded, following the string of her logic. His hand flinched at his side, showing his eagerness to rush to the Ministry and get things untangled before Fudge could dig his grubby fingers into the mess too deeply. "Yes."

"Would you do that through the mail? Mail will be intercepted more often now, and since you don't care for codes too deeply, I don't suspect that that will be an option. And, anyway, what if Harry did have a problem with Voldemort probing his brain? Since he (hopefully) learned his lesson, like you said, he would owl someone right away-- and with Voldemort being so active, a reply would take awhile-- besides that fact that mail is going to be intercepted. Then — forget the mail and the possible attempt from Voldemort to make Harry do something — Voldemort could lay on the guilt trip… probe Harry's memory, inject feelings into him… Really, Dumbledore, this is Voldemort we're talking about. Over this summer, would the Dark Lord really forego an opportunity this rich? He knows Harry is grief-stricken — if he's been in his head before, he _must_ have some notion of how that boy thinks! When you're that vulnerable, Albus..."

Dumbledore blinked. "You called me by my Christian name."

Usagi blushed, lowering her eyes, loosing all appearance of a pressing testimony. "Oh, sorry, don't know where that came from..."

Chuckling, Dumbledore smiled in her direction. "Don't be sorry, I was wondering how long it was going to take you... I'm your friend, Usagi, not your headmaster anymore. I really rather prefer it."

"Oh." Usagi was still trying to understand her sudden slip of tongue.

"And, anyway," Dumbledore pushed his glasses up slightly further on his crooked nose, "I understand completely what you are saying, now. Though it's a horrid thought to even have, with the Dursleys and so soon after Sirius's death, Harry is undoubtedly vulnerable, as you said, and I wouldn't put a suicide attempt past him at this point. If I was in that kind of position — well, to be honest, it would cross anyone's mind. He does desperately need Occlumency lessons, and not, as per example, from someone like Professor Snape, nor, now that I think on it, because of the circumstances, myself." Here he gave her a swift look, as if to impart a message. "You, Usagi, have the ability, as you have just proven within the past five minutes, to understand and assess a situation. Moreover, there are few people who dislike you for your personality alone, they just hate your for what you can do to them-- even I understand that you have many enemies."

Usagi looked at him, slightly confused. Her blonde eyebrows contorted slightly. "...Okay. Well, thanks for the compliments, but I have the feeling that you want me to do something...?"

Dumbledore laughed. "Right you are! Haven't you figured it out yet? You are an excellent Occlumens, easy to get along with, and someone that Harry doesn't have conflict with. You'll take the job, I suppose?"

Usagi rolled her eyes, but smiled. "Of course, I will. Anyway, let's see how much he likes me after I tell him how much he'll have to practice."

"I'm glad that you accepted. Now, the Dursleys live on number four Privet Drive, in Little Whinging, Surrey. They might put up a gruff front, and they are the most peculiar, disagreeable muggles. Try not to loose your temper."

Usagi pulled out her key ring from inside a pocket in her gleaming white cloak. "I know just what to do for them. You'll send my trunk along to headquarters, I hope?"

"Yes. Though I expect that you now need some things from it?" Raising a wizened finger, he indicated her clanking keys.

Usagi nodded, and selected a key, the tarnished metal barely catching the sun's radiance. She inserted it into the first lock, and threw open the top, which slammed back on the silver and leather hinges, creaking, irritated at her mistreatment. Usagi paid the trunk's whining no mind, and leaned over the lip of rectangle opening, pushing aside the set of floating boxes. They parted easily, sliding around on the metal ledge that supported their bottoms, and Usagi stuck her hand beneath their depth, feeling around for the right things. She grinned when her fingers closed around the correct items, and tossed over her shoulder a canister of lipstick, a compact, a designer handbag and towering power stilettos, which smacked the wall behind her one-by-one. She grunted and arched her back further, slipping her blonde head underneath the floating nesting boxes, and finally pulled out a suit. Flinging the lid down again, she relocked it and kicked it over to Dumbldore, while putting her singing ring of key into the purse, which looked as disgruntled as the reptile it was made out of.

Dumbledore raised a confused eyebrow. "And that random burst of femininity was...?"

Usagi scowled slightly at him. "Stop talking as if I'm a tomboy. Anyway, to make this whole thing easier, I'm going to blind these muggles with blatant materialism, appease their sense of privilege, and then make a quick exit. Closed-mindedness makes me mad."

"I've noticed." Dumbledore grabbed a leather handle on the trunk, which made no protest at his easy grip. "Meet me outside of number 12, Grimmauld Place by four."

Usagi nodded. "Will do. Be safe."

"And you as well."

They nodded briskly at each other. Dumbledore and the trunk apparated, first, probably, to the headquarters, and then the Ministry of Magic.

Usagi sighed, and moved out of the line of sight from the window, pulling off her cloak and outfit underneath, donned the restricting designer suit, slipped her wand into a breast pocket, and looked at her reflection in the reflection of a cracked mirror leaning against the wall. She smoothed out her skirt, stepped into the painful, pointed shoes, and applied the lipstick. Undoing her trademark odangos, she used the bobby pins to coil her locks into a practical bun. "There! Fit for the muggle world, I think. Hope they're happy, 'cause my toes aren't anywhere near content." Usagi made a face at her reflection, wondering why she bothered with stilettos. She had a beauty complex, much like the next woman, and her pinched feet were a testament to that.

"Well!" Usagi rolled up her outfit in the cloak, and put her wallet and a few other items into the bag, before sliding out of the second story window onto the slanted, blue plastic lid of a dumpster. Pulling her white bundle out of the window, she wrinkled her nose at the pungent odor of decomposing refuse. Jumping off dumpster, and fighting to maintain her balance on the Shoes, Usagi took a deep breath, and tried to cool her inner aggravation with having to wait so long to see the rest of her friends and comrades from the Order. She contented herself with thinking; _At least I get to see Harry. I haven't seen him since he was two weeks old-- when I popped off to Panama. After all, he has been in my thoughts... Really, I don't think that he ever left them, poor guy..._

Temporarily halting her train of thought, Usagi looked about, and, seeing no one, apparated to the closest rental agency. Deciding to blow off the rest of her muggle money, seeing as she was going back into the wizarding world, she got a luxury car and started the drive up to Little Whinging.

Harry lay. That was it. That was what he had spent the past three days doing since stepping off the whistling Hogwarts Express. Lying on his bed, staring at the dimpled, grimy ceiling of his room, and watching shapes and animals morph in the plaster.

That was a bit of a hyperbole, in all honesty, now that he thought about it. Harry swung his legs over the edge of the bed, and kicked off the ragged quilt, which now bore the dusty imprints of his sneakers. He had fired off a succinct letter to Moody, letting him know that the Dursleys were still quaking in fear every time they caught a glimpse of Harry. Moody had replied that he was delighted, and spent the next four paragraphs of his letter instructing Harry on how to make effective threats.

He had done other things as well. He had ignored the plethora of letters that Pig and Hedwig had brought him from his well-meaning but slightly irritating friends. He knew implicitly that those bits of parchment contained questions that he could not summon the strength to answer. He had made several futile attempts at his transfiguration assignments, but found that he had neither the focus nor the mental energy to even summon the amount of concentration it would take to even start on the coalescing gigantitude that was his summer homework.

But, other than those noble pursuits, he had spent his time flat on his back, trying not to think or feel. He was over guilt, over anger, over blame. He had had more than enough of that last summer; and in the few days after—Harry screwed up his eyes, and forced himself to it—Sirius had died—he had the excruciating hindsight to realize that those emotions, which had allowed himself to bottle up and boil inside of him, had lead to his rash actions. Those emotions had hurt the people that he had loved.

Sure, he had felt angry—furious at Dumbledore, enraged at Bellatrix Lestrange. But—he had left that at Hogwarts. There was none of that within him anymore. He was apathetic—emotionless. If that last summer had been full of emotion, then this one was devoid of it. It appeared that his demons were also a sort of personal Dementor—the seemed to pluck every emotion; including sorrow, from his grasp. It was like he was in a tunnel—and he could only see a very small amount of reality. Everything felt like a surreal dream.

There were times when grief hit him like an enormous tidal wave. It was so forceful that he could barely obtain a gasping breath. Then it would subside, and he would be dry again. Sometimes Harry was unsure if he'd really ever feel much again, aside from grief. Would rage, hate, bitterness return? He was certain, however, that there was something that he would never reclaim—happiness and love. It didn't seem within him. Losing Sirius had somehow made him less human.

Harry heard (without much interest) Uncle Vernon's fat, heavy feet stomping up the stairs. He slowly counted down from five, and waited. What had he done now? He was just lying here… How could he be in trouble?

The door flew open as soon as Harry had reached zero.

"Get that ruddy owl in!" Vernon snapped, as Harry slowly turned his head to take in the oversized man, whose face was quickly filling up with its typical reddish-purple color.

Uncle Vernon was talking about Hedwig, of course, who was flitting about the neighborhood, sunning her lustrous white wings.

Harry didn't have the strength to argue, even thought Hedwig was doing nothing wrong. He propped himself up on one elbow, preparing to climb off of the bed.

Vernon took Harry's lack of adequate response almost as a threat. As soon as it came, the blood fell from his face, and he looked oddly pale. "Of course, the owl really isn't ruddy…" He cleared his throat, gave a short, unconvincing little laugh and said: "'Ruddy owl', it's a term of affection… Er—" He racked his brain, "Hermig? No, uh, Hedwig! Hedwig does need to come in… er, now."

Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrow at his uncle. He never thought he would see the day where Uncle Vernon would pretend to have some sort of affection for Hedwig. It was almost amusing. He nodded, to pacify his uncle, and whistled softly. Hedwig heard his call, and came swooping in, landing on her perch and hooting softly. Harry quickly shut the door to her cage, despite her indignant squawk and spoke to her under her breath. "Uncle Vernon is being difficult again, just humour me…"

Hearing the sound of a car, Harry leaned under the sash and stuck his head out of the window. No wonder Vernon wanted Hedwig in. A black porche was pulling into number 4's driveway. The Dursleys would be unable to stand it if they showed some kind of _abnormality_. But who was in the car? And what did they want? It was something out of the ordinary.

The engine shut off, and the driver door opened with a click. One stiletto-clad foot stepped out onto the driveway, followed by another. A smartly dressed woman appeared, and shut the door behind her. As she took a moment to gaze at the house, Harry looked at her. She looked about twenty-four years old, with golden blonde hair and almost wraith-like pale skin. Aunt Petunia would be beside herself at such a guest—she was dressed in Armani and drove a Porche.

The woman looked up quickly, and Harry felt himself blush slightly at being caught staring at her. She shielded her eyes from the sun and smiled up at him. For a second, Harry found himself without breath as her cerulean eyes lit up with greeting and basked him in their warmth, soothing his anguished soul for a moment. His scar prickled, but not in a bad way. She gave him a slow, lazy wink and continued to walk towards the front door, breaking eye contact.

Though he couldn't exactly explain why, Harry was intrigued. He knew that this person certainly wasn't bad. He rushed out of the room, and halfway down the stairwell, where the wall opened up and gave a view of the front door and living room. Harry crouched down on the step just as the doorbell rang.

"Coming!" Petunia sang out, strolling out of the kitchen and stopping for a moment to smooth her apron before opening the door, revealing the woman Harry had seen before. She opened her mouth to say something, but Aunt Petunia beat her to it.

"Welcome!" She cried with false enthusiasm, gesturing to the hall. "Come in, come in! My name is Petunia, can I get you anything to drink?"

The woman looked slightly startled at this greeting, but then smiled back and stepped in. Harry felt slightly sorry for her, because of her apparent high material status, she was going to be fawned over by the Dursleys.

"I don't need anything, thank you," she told Petunia politely. "My name is Usagi."

Petunia turned back to her and took a moment to scrutinize Usagi's face. Harry thought that she was slightly turned off by the unusual name, but she surprised him when she said: "You seem familiar, as if I've met you before."

The woman named Usagi opened her mouth once again, but Aunt Petunia was making a habit of cutting her off. "Oh, silly me," she tittered. "Come in to the living room, and please, make yourself at home. I'll go fetch my husband!" With another falsetto giggle, she trotted out of the living room and into the kitchen, her pumps clicking on the tile. Uncle Vernon and Dudley came back with her. Usagi stood, and offered her hand; Vernon pumped it happily.

"This is our son, Dudley," beamed Aunt Petunia, and Dudley stepped forward, giving her a cheeky, syrupy grin.

"Hello Dudley," Usagi greeted him, and gave the large adolescent a soft smile.

"Please, sit!" Boomed Vernon, with Petunia and Dudley nodding fervently behind him.

"If you so insist," Usagi replied gently, and sank into the chiffon couch.

The Dursleys sat down too, still smiling broadly.

Usagi once more parted her lips, but—

"Vernon works with drills," Petunia offered sweetly.

"Er—" Usagi looked taken aback, but then played along and gave him another smile, this one slightly forced. "How interesting. What kind of drills?"

"Drill bits, really," Grunted Uncle Vernon in reply. He puffed out his chest. "I manage sales—in a senior management position."

"I'm afraid that I can't converse with you on that," Usagi said, shaking her head slightly, the light from the window lighting up her golden hair. "I know nothing of drill bits."

"Most people don't," Uncle Vernon continued, preening. "It's a very specialized line of work."

Usagi nodded politely, "I would imagine so," She murmured.

"Dudley here is a champion boxer!" Petunia said proudly, placing her hands on Dudley's beefy shoulders. "We're so pleased. He's become a fighter, just like his father! We knew he'd go far!"

"You must feel pretty safe, having a trained champion at nights," Usagi offered cordially.

Petunia practically glowed with adoration for Dudley. "Oh, I do!" She chirped.

"Well," said Usagi, adopting a brisker tone, lest the Dursleys decide to make more small talk, "I am here for a reason, which I'm sure you must be curious about." She sat up straighter, as did the Dursleys. "I'm here… about your nephew."

There a moment of shocked, stilted silence as the Dursleys' smiles suddenly became unnatural.

"Our nephew?" Squeaked Petunia from between clenched teeth.

Usagi turned her head, looking through the living room opening and into the hallway, locking her eyes onto Harry where he sat, staring at her from behind the cream-painted posts of the banister. "Me?" He mouthed, surprised. She nodded slightly.

"Yes. Harry, you nephew. Why don't you come down?"

Shocked, Harry rose slowly to his feet, and drifted down the stairs into the living room, wondering what this woman wanted with him, and feeling slightly amused at the looks on the Dursleys' faces when they realized that this seemingly wealthy woman was here for him.

Usagi stood as he entered, and Harry noticed that he was several inches taller than her, even though she was wearing heels. But then he found himself unable to think as she looked him in the eyes again, captivating him with her leveled gaze. There was something about her that enraptured him, calming his ruffled conscience and soothing his ravaged brain. Her azure orbs seemed to penetrate into him, reaching parts that even he didn't know existed.

Suddenly, he found that he was shaking her hand.

"My name is Usagi Tsukino, Harry," She said, giving him a gentle smile that seemed to warm him. "I know this is probably unexpected, for both you and your relatives, but I am here to pick you up on behalf of Albus Dumbledore."

"You!" Roared Uncle Vernon, and Usagi broke eye contact, spinning to face Vernon as he rose from the couch, the blood rushing to his face. "Y-you're one of _them_!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're one of those… _magic folk_." Vernon spat.

Usagi raised an eyebrow, and Petunia and Dudley also jumped to their feet.

"If you mean that I am capable of doing magic, then you would be correct."

This made Vernon furious. "You deceived us!" He barked. "You seemed decent!"

"I did nothing of the sort!" Usagi replied indignantly. "I came here as a person—nothing more or less. People are people, whether they can do magic or not. Why should this change anything?"

Vernon didn't have a good reply to that, so he just turned more purple.

Something flashed within Petunia, however. "So it is you," she hissed. "You're not wearing that ridiculous hairstyle, and it's been almost 18 years, but I knew that I'd seen you somewhere!"

"What?" Uncle Vernon demanded.

"It was her, Vernon!" Petunia said, pointing at Usagi. "She was at my sister's wedding, remember? Her maid of honor! This is her, Usagi Tsukino."

"Yes, that's true," Usagi responded. "I agreed to be her maid of honor when you, Petunia, declined the position."

Harry, looking confusedly from Usagi to Petunia, said: "How can that be possible? I've seen the pictures of my parents wedding—she's not in any of them."

"The pictures with me were seized and classified by the Ministry of Magic," Usagi told him grimly.

Petunia, scowling, stalked over to the maple bookshelf and withdrew a photo album hidden in the back, covered by dust and smooshed between two other unread books. She tossed it to Harry, who caught it. "You can keep it," she sniffed. "I want nothing to do with my sister. We took some _regular_ pictures that this fraudulent _government_ knew nothing about."

"But—" Harry stuttered, feeling completely bewildered. "How do I know—that she's—" he pointed to Usagi. "—for real?" It was one thing to have Aunt Petunia mention her sister—his mother—for the third time in all of his 15 years, but to have one muggle-dressing and acting woman show up and tell him that she was taking him to Dumbledore, when almost a year before, he had been escorted by half of the Order of the Phoenix and their brooms…

Usagi was smiling at him again, seemingly in approval, as she leaned towards his ear and whispered in it, "Harry, first of all, I'd like to compliment you on being observant and careful about who you leave with. Second of all, I'd like to address your concerns by saying that the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number 12, Grimmauld Place, London."

Harry could barely respond when Usagi was suddenly yanked back by her shoulders with a sudden yelp of pain—Uncle Vernon had his gigantic, meaty hand clamped firmly on her shoulder, his face scarlet with anger.

"DON'T TALK IN WHISPERS, CONSPIRING AGAINST US, IN MY HOUSE!" He roared.

"Get your hands off of me!" Usagi commanded angrily; her blue eyes flashed silver, and Harry shuddered slightly for no reason.

Petunia gave a low wail, her bony hands wringing the fabric of her beige, silk blouse. "Vernon, careful! She might have one—one of those stick things!"

"I do not have a wand on me, and I do not plan on hurting anyone with it—unless such an action is forced on me!" Usagi declared, snatching Vernon wrist. He gasped slightly as she pressed the muscles below his pulse, making his fingers release, and throwing his jiggling arm back at him.

"Then I'll do what I should have always done to your kind—what I should have done more with to _him_," Vernon snarled, thrusting out his fist haphazardly; whether he was aiming towards Harry or Usagi no one knew.

It happened very quickly; Usagi reached towards Harry and with a thrust pushed him behind her, she reached out her other arm, brushed Vernon's punch away, grabbed his forearm, and twisted it, forcing Vernon to his knees, then used his momentum against him. Harry watched incredousely along with Petunia and Dudley as his uncle made a soaring arc, slamming against the wall, and slumping down onto Petunia's prized sofa with it's cornflower blue slipcover and tasseled pillows, as the framed family portrait (excluding Harry), shattered from the impact, landed on his girth, shards of glass bouncing along the floor.

"VERNON!" Petunia screamed, and Dudley burst into tears, sinking down on the carpet to his knees.

"Harry, why don't you get your things?" Usagi told him, and Harry quickly scampered up the stairs, eager to heed her request.

It didn't take him long to pack; simply put, Harry really hadn't done much unpacking since arriving back with the Dursleys. He hadn't the desire or energy to do so. He quickly crammed the letters from his friends and one from Moody into the trunk, but took a minute to change his shirt, realizing, slightly embarrassed, that it was the same one who had been wearing for two days in a row. He had never been much of a stickler for appearances, but the arrival of Usagi made him aware of several facts, despite his emotional disposition. First, that he was male, second, that she was pretty, and third, that she didn't seem terribly older than him.

Finishing, Harry grabbed Hedwig's cage, taking a second to whisper to her: "Great news, Hedwig, we're leaving!" She hooted happily in reply.

Harry picked up the handle of his trunk and walked back down the stairs again, as it thumped behind him. He stopped at the opening to the living room. Usagi was in there, hands on her hips in a GI style, staring composedly at the Dursleys.

"You ready?" She asked him, not even looking behind. Harry was startled, wondering how she knew he was there when he hadn't said anything.

"Yeah," He said.

Usagi turned and gestured him out the door. Before she stepped out onto the porch, she turned once again to face the shocked family. "Regardless of whether or not one of your own is a boxing champion, the danger in this world is very real. The only way to stop your demise and that of everyone else is to set aside your bigotry and hate, for those very things are the weapons of the enemy, and it will consume you. I've seen it. I can guarantee it. It is through empathy, compassion, and cooperation that we will win this conflict. This is not just a 'magic' problem. This is a people problem. When there is someone out there who wants the destruction of everything, and everyone, to satify his cravings for malice, then it is everyone's problem. Yours' too. So look beyond yourselves."

With that, she stepped out and slammed the door behind her, and her demeanor immediately changed. She smiled again, and walked to the car, opening the passenger door for him. "Give me a second to pop the boot," was her instructions, as she climbed into the driver's section. Harry tugged his trunk and carried Hedwig's cage over, lifting the gleaming black tailgate up, and put both into the compartment before shutting the door. He walked back to the passenger side, buckled himself in and closed the door as Usagi turned the key and revved up the ignition.

"I'll turn the AC on to the boot so that your owl won't get too hot. What's his—or her, name?"

"Her name is Hedwig," Harry responded, slightly intrigued as she put the motorcar into reverse, and smoothly manuevered it out of the driveway. For a witch, this women was well-versed in how to run muggle objects.

"Were you muggle-born?" He asked, wondering if that explained her expertise.

"Well," Usagi said, as she shifted gears to 'drive', and pulled away from Number 4, "I honestly don't really know." Seeing Harry look of confusion, she decided to explain. "I never knew my mother, so I didn't know if she was muggle-born, a witch, or just plain muggle. I only knew my father, and he was a pure-blood, but he disappeared without a trace after my second year. I pretty much became an undeclared resident of Hogwarts after that, attending school there during most of the year, but remaining there during the summer. Professor Dumbledore took care of me. He was with me pretty much everyday anyway, since he was my primary teacher."

"I'm sorry," Harry replied cordially, recognizing that her situation was similar to his—an orphan.

"_I'm_ not, why are you?" Usagi demanded. "I was very _lucky_, in fact. My father—" she gave an almost indistinct shudder, "—didn't love me at all." There was a moment of silence. "He was a terrible man, Harry," she continued awkwardly. "I was very blessed to never have to see him—be with him—for the rest of my life. He wasn't my real family, Professor Dumbledore and the staff, and my friends, they were my real family. It's not blood, you see, it's love—that's what a real family is, a circle of friends who love you. Sirius Black, with all of his inbred relatives, was more an orphan than I was—"

At Sirius' name, Harry jerked visibly, and turned away from her. He felt the vehicle slow and come to a stop. Looking out of the window, he saw that Usagi had pulled over next to a pharmacy.

Unexpectedly, he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder, and turned to see Usagi smiling empatheticlly at him, her hand resting on his collarbone soothingly. "I'm sorry if mentioning him made you upset, Harry. But I won't stop saying his name—he's Sirius, he was my friend and your Godfather."

"I had forgotten about him for a moment," Harry admitted, trying not to tear up at the thought of Sirius and his fatal fall through the veil.

"That's not a crime Harry," Usagi responded softly, tilting her head so that she could look him in the eyes.

Harry squirmed under her gaze for some reason. "I should remember—it's what I have to do, for him, since—since," he finished lamely.

"Since it was your fault?" Usagi finished, with an edge to her voice.

Harry looked up at her, feeling his heart sink. So, someone finally said it out loud. It _was_ his fault.

"I had hoped that you would have enough of a grip on youself to know better than _that._" There was definitely a hardness to her voice now, and her eyes were flashing in a way that almost expressed anger with his conviction.

"I don't understand," Harry replied.

"You're not a seer, Harry, nor did you wish Sirius any harm! You wanted to protect him. You made mistakes, but you didn't make them with the expectation that something like this would happen. You did your best, and there is nothing wrong with that. Voldemort and his cohort, that prissy bitch Bellatrix Lestrange, were the ones that really wished Sirius grave harm! If it wasn't for them, none of it would have happened. They are the ones that deserve the blame, not Professor Dumbledore, Professor Snape, or youself!"

_Dumbledore must have told her everything that happened_, Harry realized at her words. _He must _ really _trust her._

"Sirius made his own choice, he knew by coming there that he would be in danger, and he came to save you—to put up his life for your ransom. That's not your fault—that was a decision that he willingly and gladly made. He didn't resent you for his death when he made that decision, so why do you resent yourself? He saved your life, Harry, and the way to repay him is not to let it dribble away. It's to live it—happily, fully—and complete Sirius' unfinished business with Lestrange and Voldemort. So come off it! You're lucky. You're living, and that's more than many others can say. You're not alone in this, there were others that cared about Sirius, and are mourning him. So stop acting like you're the only one in pain; or who cared, or who's feeling guilty! Because you're not!"

Harry felt the jolt of fury clamp onto him, as he felt that Usagi was being insensitive, but he caught her captivating blue eyes again. The sympathy held there melted his anger, and he knew that she was right. It felt like a big burden had lifted off his sholders, and he sighed.

"Do you understand now?" She asked him, and he nodded.

"Yeah," he told her, and she smiled again, switching on the left turn signal and pulling out into left side of the road before accelerating up to speed again.

"…So," he said, watching the stores of suburbia rush by in a blur of color. "The reason I asked about you being muggle-born, is because I was wondering how you knew so much about muggle things."

"Well," Usagi said, as she looked in the rearview mirror, and then out the side, "Dumbledore was always interested in muggle things, and so was Arthur Weasley. I picked it up kind of from them, but I took muggle studies, and then as part of Auror training you have to live with muggles for a year, to understand and appreciate how they operate."

"Auror training?" Harry leaned in closer so that he could hear more. He always envisioned himself becoming an Auror. "You're an Auror?"

"I was," Usagi replied. "Now, Harry, I appreciate the compliment on that fact that I can successfully drive, but now I might make some sudden movements, turns, or sudden stops. Don't be alarmed, I haven't lost my head, but it's always a good thing to try and shake people who might be following you."

Was there someone following them? Harry shifted in his seat so he could look out the back.

"Don't look," Usagi said. He glanced at her questioningly. "It looks suspicious. Use the side mirror out your window. And, anyway, I don't think we're being followed right now, but I said just in case. I sincerely doubt that Voldemort has a tail on me, first of all, I take lots of security measures, secondly, his followers hate muggles and wouldn't suspect other competent wizards to go out of their way to use muggle transportation. They themselves would probably hate the thought of having to touch anything muggle, much less know how to operate it. So, thus, taking you in a car is a good security measure. Anyway, muggles are brillant, fascinating, in my opinion. Wizards are talk about them like they're mentally retarded or something, but they do better than us sometimes—I mean, wizards didn't even _think_ about trying to go into space until the Soviet muggles sent up Sputnik, and even then the American muggles beat them to the moon. That's why, I guess, I take the time to know about them." She beamed at him.

"You were an Auror?" He asked. "You're a member of the Order, too, right? Since you know where it is?"

"Yes, I was an Auror. And no, I'm not a member of the Order, not really. I was a member of the last one, tonight I'm being sworn in."

"But-" Harry said, wondering again how old she was, "Wouldn't you have been too young?"

Usagi bit her lip slightly as she breaked for a red light. "Ah—my age. You see, I had this magical accident awhile back, and ever since I've never aged—not a single day, I don't know why."

"Oh," Harry said in response, rather generically. His small crush quickly deflated.

The car was silent for a few minutes, until Harry spoke again. "You say 'Voldemort', like I do."

Usagi laughed lightly. "Well, thank God you do. Seriously," she rolled her eyes, "I've never understood this 'You-Know-Who' and 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' business, it's simply idiotic in my opinion. I don't give a rip if someone's afraid of him, saying Voldemort isn't going to zap him over to the area to kill everybody, geez, get OVER it already. 'He-Must-Not-Be-Named' my ass, I have plenty of names for him. Asshole is the generic one, bastard is a close second. There are several that I'm not going to say, they're cruder than some of the others I've mention, but I've always had a fondness for Moldie Voldie and Voldie-poo." She grinned mischievously and glanced over at Harry. "My recent favorite, though, is The-Man-Who-Let-The-Boy-Live."

Harry snickered, laughing for the first time since Sirius had died. "That would piss him off," he commented.

"Yes, that's why the title of my list is: 50 things to call Lord Voldemort, or 50 things to say that will seriously shorten your lifespan."

"No kidding," Harry said, but he was laughing anyway.

All of the sudden, there was a weird grumbling noise. Usagi turned a shade of strawberry pink. "That's my stomach," she told him shyly, and looked at the clock while Harry tried to control his laughter so that he wouldn't appear to be rude. "I'm really hungry, I'm sure those bloody Dursleys didn't give you the best lunch, so why don't we stop somewhere? We don't need to be back at headquarters for another hour and a half."

"You don't have to, I mean," Harry stammered, not wanting her to feel obligated to buy him something, even though he felt just as hungry as she sounded all of sudden.

She had guessed his thoughts, though, because her response was "Nonsense!"

They drove on for a few minutes in silence, until Usagi exclaimed, "hey, that looks nice!" She turned into the paved parking lot and parked near the front of the restraunt, shutting off the ignition and removing the keys.

She was right, the restraunt did look nice. It also looked pretty expensive.

Harry stepped out of the car and shut the door, feeling apprehensive. He looked a bit grungy, so he wasn't sure how the staff would react, and one of the things he hated most in the world was being looked at like scum. After all, he had to deal with it from the Dursleys everyday until he had turned eleven.

But he followed Usagi in, squinting in the darkened light. A waiter stood by the register, impeccably dressed in a sharp cut dark suit.

"Table for two, please," Usagi requested brightly. The man turned to her, and in one, sweeping glance, took in her Manolo Blanc shoes, expensively cut suit, and crocodile skin handbag.

"Right this way, madam," he said without any hesitantion, grabbing two menus. They both followed him to a table. Harry sat down, and the waiter held out the chair for Usagi, who settled in, unfolding her cloth napkin. Harry copied her, and looked over the menu, failing to find anything that wasn't shockingly overpriced.

In the end, he let Usagi order for him, not wanting to let anyone part with the amount of money that was listed by the entrees. She therefore ordered the most expensive thing on there, a New York steak with a raspberry and coffee rub and some kind of vegetable dish that was undecipherable in it's french name, and had some turkey and snow peas dish for herself, along with a salad covered in bleu cheese and an oyseter shooter. They talked Hogwarts over their food, and Harry felt more comfortable in her company with each sentence exchanged. Though she ate like a pig, she was funny and caring. Sometimes she would seem like a complete ditz, and just when he was about to write her off as unintelligent she'd pop up and say something completely profound and wise that he'd feel stupid for ever thinking she might be.

"Ready?" She asked him, scooping out the last of fudge from her sundae from the dish, effectively polishing off the third one she'd had.

"Yes," Harry replied, careful not to add that he had been ready after finishing his huge meal. She was the one who had taken the extra time to stuff herself. How did she keep so thin? Her waist seemed smaller than the circumfrence of his leg, yet she could stuff more food down her throat at one sitting than he could probably do in a week.

"Great!" She responded brightly, throwing her hand up the air. "Check, please!"

She paid for the bill and they were walking out the restraunt, when she turned to him. "Mind if I change? These heels are _killing_ me!" Harry gave her the go-ahead, and she scrambled back inside and came out later looking completely different from the precise business woman she had seemed when she drove up to the Durlseys'. Her hair was in what Petunia must have meant when she said 'ridiculous hairstyle', twin buns on her head along with incredibly long, streaming ribbons of golden hair. She was also wearing a white robe of some sort. It definitely looked cooler than the black-pinstripe suit, and she confirmed this by the relieved look that she shot towards him, while stepping out into the sun, the calf-length cotton robe blowing about her long legs.

"Thanks," She said, and she did look thankful.

Harry made the proper noise in response, and they both climbed in the car, taking off. There was minimal conversation, until Usagi asked if she could turn on the radio. He said yes, so she switched it onto a classical station. She didn't seem like the person who would listen to classical music, in fact, in all her quirkiness, he could see her rocking out with an air guitar. In fact, sometimes she seemed so much like Dumbledore that he invisioned the Headmaster perched behind her, wearing sunglasses and banging on a full set of drums.

"Oooh, Haydn's number 85!" She exclaimed happily and turned it up. "I love this. Okay, thinking, thinking… Yes, this is the Allegretto part, Romance section…"

Harry let her in peace with the symphony, which was sounding statefully from the speakers, and put his seat back. He felt like sleeping, and within a few minutes, Usagi and her ramblings about the second violins seemed very far away…

"Harry… Wake-up, please… Or I'll stick a newt down your shirt!"

Harry Potter opened one eye and scowled slightly at Usagi Tsukino, who was shaking his shoulder lightly. "Yeah, no thank you."

She only giggled, and opened the door. "We're here."

Harry nodded, and unbuckled himself, feeling rested. He watched her take out his trunk, and got out to help, opening the cage to let Hedwig out. She hooted gratefully, taking flight.

"So, this is it?" Usagi shut to door to the boot, and wrinkled her nose. "Suburbia paradise, huh?"

Harry's reply was drowned out as a clunky car roared past them, the radio on full-blast, the artist rapping about what he was going to do a hoe, but before Harry could find out his intentions, the car was out of sight, the sound fading away behind it. He could see, from this experience, what she meant.

"Bach is better!" She had called out after the car.

"I agree completely," came a pleasant voice, and Harry and Usagi turned to see Professor Dumbledore leaning against the car. "Nice ride," he said to Usagi. "I gave your recommendations to the Ministry. Fudge let me deal with it, because, as you expected, he was thoroughly smashed."

Usagi rolled her eyes and made a gagging noise. Harry silently echoed her sentiments.

"Well, let's go in. Of course, if we can still use it for the headquarters." Here, Dumbledore turned to Harry. "Sirius left everything to you, Harry."

"Yeah, you can have it, absolutely," Harry replied. "It's—it's what he would have wanted, what _I_ want."

Dumbledore smiled faintly, and clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "Thank you, Harry. The Order is very grateful. I'm happy to see you again. I take it you've met Usagi…?"

"Yes."

"Handful, isn't she? Regardless, I'd appreciate you not mentioning her prescence until I have a chance to do so to all of the Order."

Harry thought this was odd, but he agreed. With that, they all entered the house, Harry and Dumbledore first. No one was else was inside, so Dumbledore motioned to Usagi and she slipped in as well.

"Harry!" Someone squealed, and he turned to see Hermione running down the stairs, a look of joy on her face. "We didn't expect—I can't believe—I was so worried about—I'm so glad you're here!" She enveloped him in an oxygen-supply-destroying hug, and then pulled away. "Who are you?" She asked, turning towards Usagi.

"Is someone there?" Came Mrs. Weasley's voice.

Dumbledore shot Usagi a sharp look. "Parlor," he said.

_How the heck am I supposed to know where _that _is?_ She wondered to herself, but rushed forward and grabbed the corroded handles on a set of double-doors that were peeling black paint. She yanked them opening with a tremendous groan from the wood, and then hurried into the dim room, closing them behind her.

"It's us, Molly," Came Dumbledore's voice through the wood. Outside, Mrs. Weasley had materialized in the foyer, drying her hands on a towel.

"Dumbledore! And Harry!" With a cry, she squeezed him ferociously. Harry was sure he was going to have bruises the next morning. "We didn't expect you here so soon! But nevertheless, I'm very pleased to see you!" She gave him another hug.

"I thought it better for all of us," Dumbledore told her, putting a hand on Harry's shoulder and saving him from suffocation. "But we do need to keep quiet," he mentioned the portrait of Sirius' mother, "and go on with the meeting."

Behind the doors, Usagi silently thanked him for recognizing that she was getting anxious to meet everyone else.

"Of course," Mrs. Weasley said.

"Also," Dumbledore continued, "please fetch messrs. Fred, George, and Ron Wealsey, along with their sister. This really is a meeting that everyone should be in on."

"Of course," Mrs. Wealsey responded again, sounding surprised. She padded upstairs, and returned down the steps with her family. Dumbledore, motioned Harry and Hermione to come along. Harry was glad that he was going to see an Order meeting, and whispered to Hermione about not mentioning Usagi.

They shuffled down the staircase and into the basement kitchen area, where the room was stuffed with Order members.

"Harry!" Some of them exclaimed, including Hagrid. Harry nodded at them all, and saw Professor Snape somewhere to the right of the room, following him with his glittering eyes, looking displeased at having to Harry so soon after the term had ended. He looked away, and gave Dumbledore his attention as the man attempted to call to meeting into Order.

_Swish, swish. Swish, swish._

Severus Snape frowned slightly, and stilled the nervous movement of his foot. Kicking his cloak around would only serve to make him look ridiculous to the other members of the Order, who, judging by the expressions on their faces, were just as anxious as he.

Why had Dumbledore called this meeting? If it were anything imperative with the Dark Lord, than he was sure that he would be the first to know about it. Unless, of course, the Dark Lord had deciphered that he was working for the Order istead of against it, as Dumbledore's double-agent instead of his. This seemed unlikely, for if he was found a traitor, he'd be killed on the spot, not allowed to return in safety. Perhaps it was on that bit of mail he had forwarded to the given address. It was sloppily addressed, showing that someone might have been in a hurry. Still, his curiosity was not easy to placate.

And what was Tonks so worked up about? She and that Arthur Weasley came in belatedly, and had taken their seats. Tonks was unusually bouncy. Perhaps she had received some good news, but this was an emergency meeting. Did the word tack have any meaning for her? He found her annoying a good deal of the time, but now she was really grating on his nerves. One look at her expression, and you could expect her to break out in song, the lyrics consisting of 'I know something you don't know'.

There was a slight click, and Severus turned to face the doorway. The Head master entered, and ushered in the Weasley twins, their younger brother and sister, Granger and Harry Potter himself. He sneered. Just what he wanted to see, Potter. Couldn't he be granted at least a few more days of relief before having to deal with that insufferable brat? The teenagers took their seats, and Dumbledore approached the front of the room, apparently ready to start the meeting. Unconsciously, he sat up a bit straighter in his chair, turning his full attention to the older wizard.

The mindless chatter of the other members quickly stilled. They were eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say as well.

Dumbledore raised his hands for silence, and was quickly accommodated.

"Now, I am sure that all of you are quite interested in what this meeting is about—"

_Now, that's an understatement,_ Severus thought.

"—So I will tell you thus. We have some very good news and some very bad news. The very bad news is that Voldemort had attacked and overran Azkaban prison, freeing our captures of three days ago. Now, your next question will probably be what we are doing about it. The answer is nothing. We are needed in other areas; and there are other places where prisoners may be held. Voldemort can have Azkaban, because we do not want to lose the foothold we've gained in other areas by relocating our assets to deal with Voldemort there."

Severus scowled. What a waste of time! So, that was it? Easy to figure out. He rather agreed with the headmaster, but really, did something like this need _everyone_ in the Order to come to the meeting? Couldn't they find out about it in the evening edition of _the Prophet_ if they weren't going to do anything about it? And for the rest, good news, bah! He had to check up on OWL results for his dismally under talented students, start compiling grades, and compile several important potions. He was wasting this precious time for expected and good news? No news was good news, or so the saying went. He made a mental note to himself to remind the whimsical Headmaster of that.

"Some of you know that this very morning, I went into muggle London, to gather intelligence from an unnamed woman. For those who didn't, you have been told. This intelligence was very profitable."

_Get on with it,_ Severus found himself thinking, and then turned to reprimand his impatience. The intelligence, if Dumbledore decided to divulge it, could be important and useful.

"Now, to move onto a different point, most, if not all of you, remember the MIAs from the old Order—"

_Usagi, _Severus found himself thinking, and immediately felt his heart sink. The woman who died while saving him. _If she could see me now, she'd be so proud…_ His fist clenched, fingernails biting into the skin. He didn't deserve her pride. He let her down; he had joined Voldemort. And she gave her life so that he, a worthless Death Eater without morality could get away safely. He blinked back the tears that always seemed to find a way to come up at her name. Why? Why did Dumbledore have to mention the MIAs? Every time someone said that, he felt himself getting emotional about Usagi. It was harder to ignore the guilt when the subject of it was brought up.

Severus found the wizard looking at him with his probing blue eyes, and he moved his gaze shiftily, not willing to let anyone, much less Dumbledore, know that he was feeling anything but a sense of annoyance and urgency.

"—This morning, the intelligence that I received was that of good tidings. One of these MIAs is alive and well in London, waiting for a chance to join us again in the fight against Voldemort's forces."

No one in the room flinched at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. They had all gotten used to Dumbledore using it, even if they did not use it themselves.

But, for the MIA who was alive, Severus already knew that it wasn't Usagi. He didn't allow himself to get his hopes up. After all, hadn't she been bleeding something awful when he left her? Hadn't she given him her energy to transport him? Weren't there ten Death Eaters, or a similarly large number? His fist clenched harder. _Don't think about it,_ he told himself, _turn it off…_

But unlike his usual emotions, the ones that cropped up with Usagi weren't so easy to dismiss. Usagi herself was never one to take excuses, or to shirk from her problems or emotions, and so was his curse, to have his memories and feelings of her stick to him in a similar way.

"I know that this will be a great shock to some of you. It will be hard to believe, for we have had good intelligence that most of our MIAs are probably dead. I will tell you the name of this MIA. Her name is Usagi Tsukino."

Severus' heart seized immediately, denying the possibility. He reacted without thinking, the emotions that had been compelled at the thought of Usagi had roared into action, pushing past his logic.

"NO!" He found himself crying hoarsely, tears coursing down his cheeks. He barely realized that he was on his feet, his chair several yards away from him, fallen from his abrupt movement.

There was an unsettling silence in the room, broken only by his gasping, heaving breaths. Everyone else seemed to be holding theirs, looking at him with surprise and bewilderment.

"Severus—" Dumbledore was the first to react.

"NO!" Severus overrode him. "It's-it's not possible!"

"Sever—"

"I WAS THERE!" He screamed at the wizard. "I WAS THE LAST TO SEE HER! TARKUS, HE TORE HER UP! SHE WAS GUSHING BLOOD, AND THERE AT LEAST TEN OTHER COMING FOR US! IT'S NOT POSSIBLE! SHE CAN'T BE ALIVE!"

With a furious, desperate noise, he physically shirked from the sympathetic eyes of Dumbledore, wiping the mess of moisture from his face, the emotions overcoming him, not giving him a chance to be embarrassed at his behavior. Images flashed through his mind. Usagi, at their graduation, all smiles and laughter, Usagi, clutching his shoulder, giving him a dire warning about Voldemort, a warning that he ignored; Usagi, pale from blood loss, promising to return alive. He was tempted to laugh at this memory, almost hysterical. _That was a promise that she never kept._ Bitterness invaded his heart. The most important promise that she ever made, and she broke it. Immediately, the balloon of bitter feelings deflated as fast as they had come into being. Usagi had given her life for him. She made a promise that she knew she couldn't keep, because she knew that it was the only way that she would get him to leave. She was a good friend to the very end. And what was he? Betraying his best friend for a fellowship with the Dark Lord, and then leaving her in her hour of need, which was, coincidentally his own as well. And now, he was soiling her memory, feeling anger towards her, when she had been nothing but loyal to him; while he was being so angry at her unselflessness. Severus snorted. _The story of my life._

"It is, indeed, Usagi, Severus, unless you doubt your own veritaserum. I will go get her."

Dumbledore opened the door and left. Slowly, people started chattering, expressing shock, while Mr. Wealsey, Tonks, and Kingsley Shacklebolt beamed knowingly.

"Woah, Snape just went off his rocker," George whispered, and Harry was inclined to agree. He had never seen Snape like this, his shoulders heaving with emotion, a twisted look of unidentified feelings playing over his face.

"He knew her? That girl?" Hermione asked no one in particular.

"Hey, Harry, is Snape _crying_?"

Harry looked towards him again, and saw the odd wetness to his cheeks. It seemed so odd to him that someone like Snape would know Usagi. They were like polar opposites.

"Just who is she, really?" Hermione was saying, again asking no one other than thin air. "And why's she so important? And what happened?" She paused and then repeated the last question. "What happened?"

"That's what everyone wants to know, lass," growled Moody from behind her. "Everyone wants to know how the hell Usagi Tsukino is still alive."

"We're ready for you now." Dumbledore was back, waiting at the door the parlor, with it's serpent fixtures and dreary, antiquated vestiges of a dark and deluded era. A fitting place for a bit of a time warp, really.

Even though Usagi had waited for years for this moment, her knees suddenly felt weak. She was _really_ going to see them all—Severus and Mad-Eye and Professor McGonagall and Remus and… She was crying already! She didn't how she was going to walk into the room, since she could barely open to doors back out to the hallway, so Dumbledore did it for her.

"They're ready?" It came out like a squeak.

Dumbledore smiled. "Aren't you?"

Usagi gasped a bit, and took in several gulps of air. "Me?" She said faintly. "Of course I'm ready… Why wouldn't I be ready? I'm so ready for this, I'm so… Oh my God, oh my God…!"

"Breathe!" Dumbledore instructed her, looking slightly alarmed. "The last thing I want to experience is another one of your wailing sessions. Don't get me wrong, Usagi, I've missed you, but not your decibel levels."

Usagi didn't have the spirit or time to be insulted; Dumbledore propelled her forward down the steps. _This definitely looks like a Black house, _she thought to herself, noticing the dark furnishings and color palate. This observation was soon overtaken by the _Oh my God, oh my God, I love them so much, I'm so excited, and I think I'm dying from anticipation…_

Time seemed to slow down as she entered through the doorway, and watched several Order members rise from their seats, their mouths dangling open, a mixture of surprise and joy showing on their faces. She could identify each one—there was Mad-Eye Alastor Moody, right there, grinning at her (what happened to his nose?), and Minerva McGonagall, pursing her lips together into a tight-lipped smile that split half her face open with joy, and then there was Remus Lupin, with some grey in his hair, looking tired, and pained, and so very, very triumphant, so happy that it made her heart thump up in her throat…

And then there was Severus Snape. He was in the front of the group, and she couldn't quite read his expression. When she turned her eyes on him, it felt like the rest of the room came to a standstill. Even his black eyes, which so often glittered, were unusually bright. He was older, she could see, but still the same Severus she knew; he still stood the same way and still had that raven hair that fell to his chin. Suddenly, with his face in her vision, she knew, finally, truly, that she was _home_, really _home_, and that her best friend, her dearest, best friend was there… There to talk to, to hug again, to tease and to care about… How she had missed him! There, in that great silence, that large chasm that seemed between them even as they locked glances, the pain of her absence appeared more striking than ever, the fact at she had missed him, worried about him so terribly struck her with increasing acuteness. She drew an agonizing breath as neither of them moved. Finally, she couldn't hold out anymore. "Oh, _Severus_," she said thickly, feeling her tears rise up to choke her. "_Severus_…"

He couldn't help but inhale sharply as the sound of her voice, melodious and full of emotion echoed across the room, calling him. The sound matched the memories that had thundered around his skull when Dumbledore mentioned her name. Immediately, he found that he couldn't seem to find either the logic of strength of spirit to deny that this vivid woman before him was not Usagi Tsukino. Who had ever looked at him, talked to him the way she did? "It's you…," he said slowly, carefully. And then, with that verbal acknowledgement, the guilt that he had hidden within himself for so long sprung upon his psyche and overwhelmed him.

And then he did something that Usagi did not expect. At first it seemed that he had lost his footing, but he was walking towards her, his knees bent and his shoulders stooped. His head was bowed, so that all she saw was the shiny crown of his head, so neither his eyes nor his expression was visible to her. Before she could say his name again in questioning, he had laid his hands on her arms and pulled her closer to him. Almost whispering in his self-contempt, he continued to not meet her gaze, withholding a moment of silence before he began to speak.

"Usagi, forgive me…"

Usagi was completely nonplussed at this greeting. "Why, whatever for?" She inquired, completely surprised and bewildered. She gripped his forearms in return, trying to steer his body upwards so that he'd look her in the eyes.

"For… for everything. For leaving you there…"

"That!" Usagi exclaimed, brushing it away. "There's nothing to forgive for that! I asked you to go, I wanted you to—and anyway, if you didn't, I would have ordered you to go and you wouldn't have had a choice."

"Ordered me?" Forgetting himself, he finally looked up at her.

The slightest appearance of a smirk decorated the corner of her mouth as she smiled down at him. "Auror's privilege, Severus," she told him as Moody sniggered in the background.

"And anyway," she continued on lest he be offended, "I should apologize as well. I'm sorry that I took so long to come back to all of you, that I worried you so much… But I'm here. I kept my promise."

"It really _is_ you," he said almost in wonderment.

"Yes," Usagi replied. "It really is me." She smiled and they both straightened their posture. She let go of his arm, and he of hers. She knew that when they spoke in private that there'd be a hug waiting for her (or, rather, she would pounce on him and deprive him of his oxygen supply until he did hug her back), but she wouldn't abuse his reputation as the unfeeling cynical type any further in front of the Order—well, at least not at the moment. There were other people to greet now.

Severus stepped aside and behind him Remus had materialized. "Oh, Remus!" She cried, not being able to control her tears any longer. When it came to crying, she never did have much self-control. "How are you?"

Remus stepped forward and enveloped her in a hug, embracing her so thoroughly that she was forced to balance on her tiptoes from the height difference. His greeting was so fierce that it felt like he was clinging to her like he had found a link to… To the past, she realized. She was the last Gryffindor of his class left. James, Lily, and Sirius were all gone, and Pettigrew was a bloody traitor. She was therefore a reminder of better times; of comradery.

He was laughing, now. "How am _I?_ How are _you_, Usagi, that's what we've all been wondering!"

She blushed; now it seemed like a stupid question. "No, no, I really want to know, I really do."

Lupin only laughed at her more. He patted her left odango. "Of course you do. You're Usagi Tsukino."

Oh, she really had missed him! Usagi beamed back before turning to Mad-Eye, who was waiting his turn. She wasn't sure how he wanted to be greeted, when he raised his staff. "Everyone here owes me a lot of galleons!" He declared, then lowered the staff and shook it at Usagi. "Yes, I bet 16 years ago that it would take more than 10 pussy-wussy sissy-la-la Death Eaters to take out you, girl! So now I am a rich man!" He patted her on the back, his way of saying that he was glad she was there.

"Honestly, no one owes you anything! How could we ever bet on something so morbid?"

Usagi grinned in spite of her tears. She'd know that voice anywhere—it was the cutting tones of none other than Professor McGonagall, her former head of house.

"Professor," Usagi began, but she was cut off.

"Don't address me like that! I'm your friend, not your professor anymore, Usagi. We're practically family!"

With that, they embraced. It was true, Usagi thought, what McGonagall had said. They really were like family.

Usagi made her way to Hagrid, who was crying tears the size of goblets. She then continued to greet other people in the order, sharing tears, hugs, and memories. When she had finished the round, she felt a slight touch at her elbow, and turned to face Severus.

"Where were you, Usagi?" He asked.

There was a chorus of "yes, where?"s from various Order members. Usagi took a seat at one of the large wooden benches. "Well," she said, "It's a rather long story, and I've already told it once today so I'd rather not repeat it right now."

"What!" Snape looked indignant. "What do you mean, you don't feel like telling it? We've waited for years to hear what happened to you—we don't want to wait another night! That's that most pathetic excuse I've ever heard—just as pathetic as your potions skills and ability, or lack thereof, to cook." He finished off this insult with a sneer.

Back in the corner, the Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged looks. This was the Snape they were familiar with. He had seemed friendly with Usagi for a moment there, now he was insulting her. Back to normal.

Usagi raised a perfectly formed blonde eyebrow at his comment. "You are absolutely right, it is an incredibly pathetic excuse, nearly as pathetic as your social skills."

Severus sat down beside her. "Touché."

She gave him her most innocent smile. "And, anyway, my incredibly pathetic excuses, potions and cooking skills are all part the greater talent that I possess; an area where I am the best in the world!"

It was Snape's turn to raise an eyebrow. "And that would be…?"

Usagi smiled at him happily. "The amazing ability to drive you completely, and utterly insane."

Severus snickered. "Oh, yes, you've always been able to accomplish that very well for such a cheeky gryffindor."

Her expression softening, Usagi smiled at him again. He noticed how it gave a quiet light to her eyes that wasn't there before. They flashed at him merrily from beneath her gold-tinted fringe, sparkling with azure glints, like two jewels set inside her porcelain skin. He had forgotten the power of her smiles; one like this could lighten the room, and pass onto him a sense of peace in the most chaotic situations. A smile delivered in anger or displeasure would send chills dancing up his spine. He only had these smiles given to him twice in his life, and he considered both situations the most trying experiences of his life.

Usagi reached out and gave his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. She then stood up on the wooden bench, and put her index and middle fingers in her mouth, giving a shrill whistle. This quieted the chattering Order members, who looked up at her.

"I do have a question to ask, you know, on business."

"So ask it!" Someone called out, and Usagi laughed.

"All right. Raise your hand if you've been approached about watching certain people in the Order for Dumbledore."

Looking confused, three people raised their hands.

Usagi turned on the bench to face Dumbledore, who looked troubled. "And how many people have you actually had approached to do this?"

"None," he replied quietly, and it took all of Usagi's willpower not to put her head in her hands and sigh with frustration.

"So we have three false-flag agents here?" She said loudly. "Haven't, I mean, hasn't this been talked about?" She shook her head. "Nevermind, I guess not."

"So we'll talk about it now," Dumbledore said, clearly his throat. "Nobody has been approached for information, so you should all remember, if someone does approach you in my name, they are not coming from me."

"Well, you might not want to say that," Usagi told him, and he looked up at her in confusion. "We might need to do that someday—if we suspect a mole, and God I hope that day never comes. We should develop a password of sorts. Something random."

Dumbledore nodded. "All right, the passphrase is 'north the phoenix flies'. Can everyone remember that?"

"An' what should we do if it they ain't got the password?" Hagrid asked.

"Kill them," Usagi replied, and several people gasped. "I know it's morbid, a terrible thought, but they're a liability! They're obviously fishing for information; if they can't get it that way, they'll get it another way, and it won't be as pleasant."

Dumbledore sighed. "She's right," he said shortly. "As horrible as it is, if such a situation occurs it is the thing that must be done. And now, if those who raised their hands could follow me. You too," he told Usagi, and she jumped off the bench. Snape got up much more slowly.

"I think I need a pot of tea," Dumbledore said. He looked disturbed that there had been information leaks in the Order.

"Okay," Usagi responded cheerfully. A moment later, a teapot floated out of the kitchen, along with six teacups and a tray. Usagi grasped the handle of the teapot, and held her palm out flat as the tray settled itself on it, and the teacups on the tray.

"Telekinetic show-off," Severus commented, poking her in the back as they walked out of the room.

She grinned at him, flashing her teeth almost threateningly. "Never poke the one who holds a pot of scalding hot tea," She told him sagaciously. "Remember that."

"Good advice," He replied, and took the tray of teacups from her.

Usagi was about to thank him when he continued. "It would be disasterous if you were to klutz out like you so often do."

"You are so mean to me!" She cried, and swatted him on the shoulder.

"It's no more than you deserve, tormenting me all these years, missing you," He retorted softly, slipping his arm around her shoulders.

She gasped slightly, looking up at him, her blue eyes filling with tears. "You really mean that?"

"Don't cry," he said quickly. "You know I hate it when you cry."

Usagi, however, was too busy feeling touched to worry about such trivial things as not crying. Severus had never been one for verbal or physical signs of affection, so she had learned to take his teasing sarcastic remarks as such, and his fierce protectiveness of her at school for his ways of displaying tender feeling—as if he'd ever admit to that. So to have him say it out loud and with his body language let her know that he really did her miss, and she was overcome that she'd mean so much to… anybody.

"Oh, Severus," She said, throwing her arms around his waist and burying her head in his chest so that her voice was muffled. "You have no idea—no plausible _idea_—of how much that means to me!"

Instead of finding the contact unpleasant, Severus found himself patting her on the back rather naturally, feeling satified and wondering if he should do this touching thing more often.

"Come on, lovebirds!" Called Order member Deanna Ash from the top of stairwell, and Usagi and Severus leapt apart faster than a strike of lightning, standing on opposite sides of the stone step and making coughing and "ahem" noises.

They stayed at least three feet away from each as they finished climbing the steps, and raised voices echoed down the hallway. Words filtered through, venemous in origin.

"…I am prepared to die for my Lord…" Was spat scathingly, the echoes filled with menace and a hint of fear. Usagi glanced confusedly at Severus for a moment and before she could blink her wand was in her hand. Drawing it had been so automatic from Auror training years back that she didn't even have to think about it now.

"Your loyalty was sworn to the Order," Dumbledore's voice thundered through, arresting into it's icy tone, crystalline in clarity. "And bonded by magic. Unless you are possessed—"

Usagi rounded the corner that moment, and the frozen figures of the Order members in question were juxtaposed around the room, with Dumbledore and his white beard and glittering dangerous eyes in stark relief to the black and dusty surroundings. Martha, the Order member that he had been interrogating was transformed from moments ago, nearly down on all fours, her face paler, her pupils in her eyes split like a cat's instead of a regular human. Spittle was foaming from her mouth, and now that Dumbledore mentioned it, she _did_ look possessed.

Martha's jaw elongated, and her canines extended past what was human. Her eyes rolling up so only the whites showed, she hissed long and hard.

"It's almost sundown," Severus remarked. It was such a normal thing to say that at first it was disarming. But Dumbledore caught on quicker than any of them.

"Indeed. What we have here is a newly awakened vampire; with a reformat of its identity—"

"—crossed over by a Master vamp who is loyal to Voldemort," Usagi finished for them, after Dumbledore had figured out what the creature hyperventilating before them was.

"Oh bugger," Deanna deadpanned from the corner, her wand out and the tip wavering slightly in the air.

As Usagi adjusted into a defensive position she thought that 'oh bugger' was precisely right.


End file.
